The Night is Full of Stars
by Alairas
Summary: The Blight is over. Jessimyn Cousland is faced with the dilemma of where to go from here, trying to balance her duty to her family, her nation, and her king. Cousland/Alistair/Zevran/Leliana/Fergus/Lots of Originals. Rated M for violence and sexual scenes
1. Jessimyn Chapter 1

Jessimyn stood at the back of the large hall, surveying the crowd. The turnout was great, but she'd been expecting that. What she hadn't been expecting was the large number of people who felt it was perfectly appropriate to twist around in their seats and stare at her. That bothered Jessimyn a great deal. It was the coronation of their king. Surely that was more important than staring at some woman in armor at the back of the room. Not that she was just any woman, though. She was the _Hero of Ferelden_, they'd all been calling her. Maker, how she hated that title.

"You should be up there with him," came a voice from her side.

"Shut up," Jessimyn said through gritted teeth. "This is his day, and he should not have to compete with me for attention. Though it seems that's the case anyway. I shouldn't have even come. I hate being stared at"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," said the man standing at her side.

Jessimyn turned to look at him. "Yes, I am well aware what you meant. But I am tired of having this conversation. Please leave me alone."

"And I am tired of you _avoiding_ this conversation, my sweet sister. When are you going to tell me the truth? Your lies may work on everyone else, but they won't work on me. They never have."

"Will you please be quiet," said Jessimyn, noticing a few more faces turning around to look their way.

"Only if you agree to come to my sitting room. After this show is over, of course, but before the feast. Surely you don't need as much time as all the other noblewomen to ready themselves for tonight's party."

"Fine, Fergus. Whatever you want. Just go away."

Grinning, Fergus patted her cheek. "Just make sure you keep your promise. I'd hate to make a scene, rushing all about the royal palace to look for you."

Before Jessimyn could respond, he was gliding away. She scowled at her brother's back before she realized there were still people watching, though most were trying not to be quite so blatantly obvious about it. With an effort Jessimyn relaxed her face, turning her attention back to the man standing on the dais at the front of the hall. If someone had told her a month ago that this was where she would be today, she wouldn't have believed them. The Grey Wardens had gathered their armies, they'd defeated the archdemon, and they stopped the Blight. And now Alistair, her companion of the past year and a half as well as the only other surviving Grey Warden in all of Ferelden, was being made king. The effort it took to keep her emotions from showing on her face was giving her a headache.

When the ceremony ended, Jessimyn ducked out the back of the hall before anyone could corner her. It was a near thing, too. While most of the people were moving towards the front of the spacious room to be nearer to their new king, some were quite obviously moving in her direction. She moved to the back hallways, those usually only used by servants. The servants she passed gaped at her, but most only bowed and jumped out of her way. After getting turned around twice, she made it to the apartments held for the Teryn of Highever. Not pausing to knock, Jessimyn threw open the door and went inside.

The sitting room was large and lavishly decorated. There was a large fireplace at the back of the room, and there were a number of chairs placed before it. Short hallways stretched to both sides of the sitting room, and there were bedrooms on each side, with a room for the servants at the ends of both hallways. Fergus was seated, and a manservant was pouring something for him. At the sound of the door crashing open, the servant jumped, but Fergus just looked up with a smile.

"Looks like I won't have to send out the search party after all. Daynin, please pour my sister a drink, then leave us."

The servant silently obeyed, and Fergus gestured to the chair beside him. "Sit, Jess. I suppose it was too much to ask for you to change out of your armor? I guess I should just be grateful that you've come at all."

"Fergus, please," Jessimyn began, but her brother talked over her.

"Look, Jess, I don't mean to be unkind. I know you've been through a lot, I do. But there's too much here you're not telling me. You used to be able to talk to me about anything."

"You used to know when to leave well enough alone," muttered Jessimyn.

Fergus sighed. "We are not children anymore. Would that we could go back to those days, but we can't. I am the head of this house now, and I want you to talk to me."

"Fine," said Jessimyn. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why you weren't up there with Alistair. King Alistair, I guess I should say. And before you try to sidestep my question or pretend like you don't understand my meaning, I'll spell it out for you. You could be his queen. You probably _should_ be his queen. Why are you not?"

Jessimyn grabbed the filled snifter sitting on the table and drained it. Fergus' eyes shot upwards. "Is it that bad?" He asked, his voice almost gentle.

Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, which made Fergus wince, Jessimyn gave a shrug. "It's... complicated."

"Enlighten me," said Fergus, leaning forward a little in his chair. "You love him, don't you? You can try to deny it, if you really feel it's necessary, but I've seen the way you look at him. I've seen the way he looks at you, for that matter. We could make a powerful, political marriage with a man you already love, yet you refuse. Why?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "It would never work. For one, I'm a Grey Warden now. Grey Wardens forsake all titles they once had when they..."

"Alistair is also a Grey Warden," Fergus said, cutting her off. "And yet he is king. Try again."

"I am one of two remaining Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden. It is my duty to rebuild..."

"Nonsense," said Fergus, once again interrupting her. "So you travel to Weisshaupt in the Anderfels and bring back some Grey Wardens with you. Even if you were to travel over land, you could be there and back within a year."

"Fergus, are you going to let me speak?"

He grinned at her. "Are you going to stop making ridiculous excuses? You do love him, don't you?"

Jessimyn grunted and grabbed her brother's glass, draining it as well. Fergus frowned at her.

"That's expensive brandy, you know. It's meant to be savored. And that was a relatively easy question to answer. Only a 'yes' or 'no' is required. You don't even have to elaborate."

Jessimyn shook her head. "I told you, it's complicated."

"You may think the circumstances are complicated, but whether or not you love him should be apparent enough to you. So what is it?"

"Fergus, we could never..."

"Yes or no?"

Jessimyn tried again. "Even if I wanted to..."

"Yes or no, Jess?"

She gave her brother an angry look he knew all to well. "You don't understand, but..."

Fergus raised his voice. "Yes or no, Jess!"

"Yes, Maker damn you!" Jessimyn seemed shocked when the words escaped her mouth. She shook her head, her voice softening. "But we both know that, when it comes down to it, love doesn't matter. I could never be queen. Even if I _wanted_ to be, and I do not, let me assure you. But even if I did, it wouldn't work."

For a wonder, Fergus made no smart comment to that. He peered at his sister for a moment, then stood up and walked over to retrieve the decanter from a small cabinet. He refilled both glasses, started to put the decanter back, then thought better of it and left it on the table. Swirling the snifter around in his hand, Fergus asked, "Why wouldn't it work, Jess? You are the daughter of a Teryn, as was our previous queen. Had you been older, you could have been Cailan's wife, as I'm sure you're aware. A union between a Cousland and a Theirin would be a powerful one. You know the nobles would accept you. They'd probably fall all over themselves to show their approval of the match. So give me a real answer, if you have one."

Minutes passed before Jessimyn spoke. "I will try to explain, but please do not interrupt me. This will be difficult to put in the words."

Fergus merely nodded and picked up his glass. He leaned back in his chair and balanced the snifter on his knee.

"Thank you," said Jessimyn. She took a deep breath before beginning. "When one is recruited into the Grey Wardens, it's not simply a matter of being chosen for it. There's a ritual one must go through. They call it the Joining. Not everyone survives this ritual. In fact, in my Joining, I was the only recruit of three that lived. But this ritual, it... it changes you."

"What is this ritual," Fergus asked. "Something that involves magic, I assume?"

Jessimyn shook her head as she absently reached up to touch the pendant at her throat. "It's not something I can really talk about. For one, it is meant to be kept secret. But also, I don't really know how it works. Riordan managed to salvage the documents that detailed the... procedure, but I haven't yet had time to look them over. Just trust me when I say it changes a person. For one, we're able to sense darkspawn. But most important to this situation is that it... well... it likely would make it very difficult to have a child."

"How so?"

With an exasperated sigh, Jessimyn said, "I told you, I don't really understand all of it. But what I do know is that all Grey Wardens carry the taint. It's the reason we can sense the darkspawn. But a person can only live with it for so long. Alistair told me that most Grey Wardens don't hold that position for much more than 30 years or so."

The laugh that erupted from Fergus startled Jessimyn. "Oh, is that all? I think 30 years is plenty of time to have an heir or two."

"Please, just listen," said Jessimyn. "It's... it's something that could be passed along to a child. But that's assuming that one could even be conceived. I don't know of any Grey Wardens who have had children after their Joining. It will likely be hard enough for Alistair to have a child, but if both parents are Grey Wardens? Nearly impossible. Can I doom Ferelden to that?"

There was another stretch of silence as the two sipped their brandy. "You use words like 'nearly impossible' and that it would _likely_ be difficult. But you don't know for sure, do you? You're just guessing. So it would take time to conceive. Anora was married to Cailan for five years, and they never produced an heir, but no one was really worried about it. Well, not much anyway. They were both still young, and everyone knew they had time. You're barely 20. Why throw away the chance with someone you love for a 'maybe'?"

Jessimyn gave him a sad smile. "If only I could believe you say that for my welfare. If only I didn't know you've already set your heart on being the uncle of a future king."

Fergus scowled at her. "Don't paint me as the heartless villain in this. I want what's best for you as well as what's best for the family. I think those things happen to be one and the same."

"And don't assume I'm being a selfish child. You know me better than anyone, Fergus. You know I fight for the things I want. You also know that I've never been interested in any of the men Father paraded in front of me, hoping I'd find an acceptable husband. For me to admit I love someone... you know that's not something I take lightly. You must also know I've thought about this, about what I could do so that we could still be together. I've looked at it from every angle, and if there was a way I could see to make it work, I'd do it. I just don't see a way."

Fergus frowned into his glass, and Jessimyn could tell he was trying to come up with a rebuttal to her argument. Given enough time, she knew he would come up with something, but she was too weary to deal with it just then. She finished her drink and stood up. "I should be going. My presence will be expected at the feast tonight, and I need to change."

"Actually," admitted Fergus with a sheepish smile, "I took the liberty of having your things brought here. They're in the bedroom down that way, on the right," he said, gesturing to the hallway to his left.

"Fergus..." Jessimyn began to protest, but he cut her off.

"You're still a Cousland, no matter what. It's only right that you stay here with me. Besides, I miss you so, and I'd be terribly lonely without you," he said in a mocking tone.

Jessimyn sighed, but when Fergus continued, there was no jesting in his voice. "No, really. Please stay. It's too empty here, without Mother and Father..." The pained look on his face was mirrored in his sister's visage.

"As you wish, then," said Jessimyn as she reached to give her brother a hug before turning to go towards her room.

"I'm impressed," said Fergus.

"What do you mean?" Jessimyn asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"I'm impressed that you can walk straight after all that alcohol. Since when did you become such a consummate drinker?"

"When you've seen the things I've seen, you'd start drinking more, too," said Jessimyn, her voice tinged with sadness.


	2. Alistair Chapter 2

"...your brother loved Ferelden. And your father, as well, Your Majesty," rambled some minor lordling.

_So that's 14 mentions of Anora, 27 of Jessimyn, 7 of Loghain, 22 of Cailan, and 31 of Maric,_ Alistair thought. _Or was it 32 of Maric?_ He found that keeping track helped distract him from the amazingly dull and repetitive conversations he was forced to participate in. Perhaps someone had passed out a pamphlet before the evening's feast, detailing the acceptable topics to be used with the new king?

"Yes, of course. And you know what else Maric loved? A good Roquefort. Or at least that's what I heard. I never really knew him," Alistair said with an innocent-looking smile.

The young lord suddenly looked very confused. "Uh... yes... quite right, Your Majesty."

"Oh, if you'll excuse me, I must go speak with..." He glanced around, looking for a suitable name to insert into his statement, then gave up and simply walked away, leaving the lord gaping after him.

"I'd actually heard King Maric preferred a soft Camembert," came a voice from Alistair's left.

With a sheepish look, Alistair turned to look at his friend. "Eamon. How good of you to rescue me from the dangers of that dull conversation. Next time, try to save me a little sooner, will you?"

"Alistair, I know you aren't a fan of such gatherings, but you must try to get along with your people. These are the men and women who will either be your greatest allies or your worst adversaries. The early days of your reign will determine that."

"Yes, I know," said Alistair, ducking his head. The arl patted him on the shoulder before moving on, leaving the new king to mingle with his subjects. He looked around him and winced when he saw one of the banns from the south moving towards him. It seemed like all of the nobles from anywhere near the Gwaren teyrnir wanted nothing more than to make him feel like a fool. As he was trying to plan an escape, another man moved into his field of vision.

"Your Majesty. I was hoping I might have a word with you."

Alistair tried not to let the relief show on his face. "Of course, Teyrn Cousland," he said, noticing the Bann scowl and move on.

"Please, call me Fergus," he said. "And what I wish to speak to you about is best done in private. Perhaps I might have an audience with you tomorrow? Or at your earliest convenience."

Alistair suddenly became very wary, but he knew he couldn't refuse. The man was the only teyrn in Ferelden now and could not be ignored. However, he was also Jessimyn's brother, meaning whatever he wanted to talk about could end up being very uncomfortable. "Of course. Why don't you come to my private dining room for lunch tomorrow. Will that do?" Alistair silently cursed himself. He was the king now, he didn't have to ask permission, even from a teyrn, but Fergus just agreed to the meeting and moved on.

The awkward mingling continued until the music began, and the center of the room was cleared for dancing. It seemed that every bann, arlessa, or daughter of such that was single and between the ages of 16 and 40 moved a few steps closer to him, hoping he would ask them to dance, but Alistair retreated to the throne set at the front of the room. He seated himself so that he could observe and, thankfully, not participate in the dancing. Time passed slowly as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but he dared not get up for fear that someone would be bold enough to ask _him_ to dance. Instead, he found himself searching the crowd for Jessimyn's face. He'd caught sight of her a few times that evening, but they hadn't spoken. It was probably for the best, he considered. Their last few conversations had been painful and pointless, resolving nothing. And now her brother wanted to talk to him.

It was in the early hours of the morning before Alistair was finally able to retreat back to his private rooms. He collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed, and slept late. When he awoke, he realized with a certain dread that he had invited the teyrn of Highever to lunch but hadn't actually informed anyone to prepare it. He dashed from his room to find his manservant waiting just outside.

"What time is it?" Alistair demanded.

"Nearly 10, Your Majesty," said the man... Eldryn was it? There were too many servants to keep all of their names straight.

"I'm to have lunch with Teyrn Cousland in my private dining room today. Please inform... someone."

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Eldryn. He ducked out of the room for but a moment, then returned, looking over the king's clothes with obvious disapproval. "Shall I select something for His Majesty to wear?"

Alistair allowed himself to be dressed and made ready for his meeting with the teyrn. He despised having people wait on him like that, but he'd learned quickly that it was easier to let the servants help him than to fight them over it. They didn't seem to understand that there were at least a few things he could do for himself. Then, it was time for more waiting. He couldn't arrive in the dining room before Fergus, after all, so he had to wait for an announcement that the teyrn was there before joining him.

They made small talk as they were being served their meal, but once it was on the table, Fergus asked, "Would you mind sending your servants out? What I wish to speak on is of a... sensitive nature."

With a wave of his hand, Alistair dismissed them, suddenly very worried that he should have declined this meeting. "What is this all about, Fergus?" He asked.

"Your Majesty... may I call you Alistair?" The king nodded, and Fergus continued. "Alistair, I know you don't know me very well, but I hope to change that. After all, I want to know more about someone who means so much to my sister."

Alistair knew very well that the man was waiting to see a reaction on his face, and he did his best to deny him that. "Yes," he said, trying to keep his voice smooth. "Jessimyn and I have been through a lot together. She always spoke very highly of you."

"And she speaks quite highly of you," said Fergus. "I hope you'll forgive me for being blunt, but I think you should consider making her your queen."

Alistair made a strangled noise, but Fergus talked right over him. "You'll be needing a queen, and it is only a matter of time before you find yourself flooded with suggestions. I hope that mine is the first and the one you consider seriously. You'll find no better match than my sister. Even if she wasn't a hero in this land, she's a Cousland, and there's not a family in all of Ferelden that can compare, nor any other woman who stands higher, especially after Anora was executed."

Alistair winced at that but managed to find his voice. "Have you spoken with Jessimyn about this? Because I have. At length. Believe me when I say that we both considered it, quite seriously. As much as we might both wish it was a possibility, it just isn't. As king, I must produce an heir..."

"Maker's breath, not this again," said Fergus with a grunt.

"Then you _have_ spoken with her about it. And I'm guessing you're here without her knowledge as well. Trust me, if there was any way we could be together..." No, that was giving away too much, Alistair realized. "If there was a way we could make it work, I believe I can speak for both of us when I say we would try. But there just isn't. It is my Theirin blood that put me on the throne. How can I consent to a union that will prevent me from continuing that bloodline?"

"But how can you be so sure she couldn't conceive a child? She's young. You're young. And yes, she told me something of this taint, but just because it would make it difficult doesn't mean it would make it impossible."

"She managed not to conceive the whole time we were..." began Alistair before realizing what he was admitting. He flushed a deep red.

"Tell me, Alistair," said Fergus, not appearing to be agitated at all by his king's statement. "Did she know from the beginning that the taint might have this effect on her?"

"Well... no, I don't think so. I don't remember talking about it until after the Landsmeet, when it was decided that I would be king. I'm not sure I'm comfortable talking about this with you."

Fergus smiled, ignoring Alistairs last statement. "So she didn't know she couldn't conceive when you two began your relationship, then. Tell me. Did you notice that she liked a cup of tea after your coupling? It probably had a sharp smell, and she probably added heaps of honey to it, if it was available."

"I... she... that is..." Alistair stuttered.

Fergus gave him an apologetic look. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I do not mean to pry or make you uncomfortable. I forget that you were not raised as a noble, that you were raised in a Chantry, in fact. Please do not think I am trying to be crass, as I am not. I am simply trying to establish the facts." He paused for a moment, then asked, "The tea?"

"Yes, she drank tea, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Fergus nodded, more to himself than to Alistair. "Silphium tea. She always drank it after... all noblewomen do. My wife did, before we were married. It's to keep a woman from conceiving at an inopportune time. Surely you realize she would have taken precautions to keep herself from getting with child, especially as you were fighting against a Blight."

"I... no, I didn't realize. I never asked. I never thought..." Alistair trailed off, looking pensive.

"So you see," concluded Fergus, with a look on his face that could almost be called smug. "It's quite possible she's perfectly healthy and fertile."

"But she still carries the taint, as do I," protested Alistair, but Fergus was pleased to see the doubt in his face.

"I feel like you should have all the facts before you make a decision that will affect the rest of your lives. I simply ask that you speak to her again," Fergus smiled at the king. "My sister accuses me of interfering in your lives out of a desire to better the Couslands, and I will not lie to you and say that doesn't matter to me. She and I are all that's left of our house, and I do want what's best for our family. But she is my sister, and I want her to be happy. She's always been stubborn and a little wild, but I've never known her to be in love before. I've seen the looks you give each other when you think no one is watching. It saddens me to think that you'll let that go."

Fergus' face suddenly became a mask of pain, and Alistair was surprised to hear him choke up a little. "The night that Howe murdered our family, I lost my Oriana and our little Oren. Maybe it doesn't compare, but I would do anything to have them back, to even have one more day with them. I don't wish for my sister to ever have to feel that sort of pain, the pain of losing someone you love. Please, just... think it over."

"I will... think on it," said Alistair, sounding a little stunned. "I will speak to her."

Fergus nodded and rose from his chair. "That is all I ask. Thank you, Your Majesty. If you would excuse me?"

"Of course," said Alistair, not seeming to be paying much attention to the man anymore.

Fergus gave an elaborate bow before leaving the dining room, a smile playing across his lips.


	3. Jessimyn Chapter 3

It was a week after the coronation when the summons came. Jessimyn had been relaxing in the sitting room with her brother when there was a knock at the door. Daynin opened the door to reveal a very young-looking page standing there with a letter in his hand.

"Letter for the Grey Warden," he said, trying to peer around Daynin and into the room. The servant held out his hand, but the page didn't even seem to notice. "Are you she?" He asked, looking at Jessimyn.

"I am, yes," said Jessimyn, rising from her chair to go to the door. Daynin scowled but moved out of her way.

"You're the Hero of Ferelden!" The boy exclaimed. "My father fought with you! Well, he was fighting in the city, while you were killing that dragon, but he was there. His name's Dosrin Camber. Do you know him?"

Jessimyn tried to force a smile to keep herself from cringing. "You have a letter for me?"

"Oh yes, right here. It's from the king, it is," he said, obviously pleased with himself that he was carrying out such an important assignment.

Taking the letter from the boy, Jessimyn walked back to her chair, not hearing the rest of what the page said, nor noticing that Daynin gently pushed him out of the room before closing the door. She sat down hard, running her fingers over the wax seal. From the king. What could he want?

"Well, are you going to open it, or do you need me to pour you a drink before you do so?" Fergus teased.

Jessimyn narrowed her eyes at her brother before breaking the seal and scanning the words written there. _Meeting... important... private..._ She shook her head. What did Alistair want with her now? What more could they say to each other that hadn't already been said? The all-too-innocent look on her brother's face made Jessimyn suspicious.

"He wants to see me. Later today. I don't suppose you know anything about this, do you?" Jessimyn accused.

"How could I possibly know anything about what the king desires?"

Oh yes, this was all Fergus' doing, Jessimyn could tell. But what could she do about it? Jessimyn didn't feel like fighting about this, and it wasn't as if she could turn down a summons from the king. After all, the page hadn't even waited for a reply... or had he, and she didn't notice? No matter, she would meet with him, if that's what he wanted.

"So when does he want to see you? How much time do you have? You're not going to wear that, are you?"

"Are you my nursemaid now, Fergus?" Jessimyn demanded. "I do quite well taking care of myself, thank you very much."

"But you are going to change, right?" Fergus grinned at her.

Jessimyn growled and went to her bedroom. Of course she had planned on changing. She didn't need her brother to tell her to do that. But what to wear? The armoire was filled with dresses that had all been purchased within the past month, as she hadn't had anything decent with her. At one time she had enjoyed dressing up, but now it seemed like a pain. She selected a pair of silver slippers and a matching belt that Leliana had given her. She began to reach for a green dress, then decided against it. Green and silver were her house colors, and she didn't want to come off as a Cousland. Instead she selected a dark blue dress. Blue and silver were Warden colors, and that seemed more fitting.

Once she was ready, she pressed her ear to the door. There was no sound coming from the sitting room, and Jessimyn hoped that her brother had gone, but she was disappointed to see him still seated in his chair when she came out.

"Look at you, pretty as a painting," he said with a smile. "Of course, you should be, considering how long it took you to get ready."

"Have I mentioned lately how much I despise you?" Jessimyn asked.

"Hmm... It has been a few days, now that I think about it."

Jessimyn rolled her eyes and walked to the door, only to have Fergus jump up and follow her. "Do you need an escort?" He asked. "I'd be willing to walk with you."

She put her hands on his chest and shoved him backwards. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, as you are more than well aware."

"You wound me," he said in mock dismay as he rubbed his chest. "I think that's going to leave a bruise."

Jessimyn just rolled her eyes and left the Cousland apartments. She found herself walking very slowly, taking a roundabout way to the king's garden, where Alistair had asked her to meet him. Their last few conversations came to mind, and she pondered on them while she walked. The giddiness they'd felt after the Landsmeet was easiest to remember. It was then that they'd discussed the possibility of marrying. After all, only Anora could rival her standing among the nobility in Ferelden, and even had Alistair had any desire to wed his brother's widow, there was the little matter of their decision to execute her father. Well, that and the fact that she refused to swear fealty to Alistair and would likely end up losing her head as well. That hadn't been an easy decision to make, but in the end they decided it was best for Ferelden to be united with no opposition behind whom anyone could rally.

It wasn't until after the archdemon had been killed that they began to doubt the idea of ruling together. In the back of her mind, in a place Jessimyn wouldn't allow herself to dwell, she wondered if they had broken things off as a sort of punishment to themselves for the dark deal they had made with Morrigan. No, surely they were just trying to be practical. After all, a king was only as good as his ability to procreate. Even Fergus would have to look to marry again soon, to produce a Cousland heir. Jessimyn realized she was pacing by the door that led to the garden. She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress, and stepped outside.

It was a pleasant day in Denerim. The sun was out, and a few puffy clouds were scattered in the sky. This was a private garden of the king's, and it took her breath away. A large fountain sat in the center of the garden, and cobblestone walkways branched out from it to form six points of a star. Between the walkways were concentric arcs of flowerbeds and stone benches, alternating back and forth. Delicate trellises lined the outer edges of the garden, upon which ivy climbed. Alistair was already there, seated on the lip of the fountain, which was wide enough that it made a sort of bench all the way around it. His back was to her, and he didn't seem to hear her approach. Of course, she'd always been able to sneak up on him, even wearing armor. She cleared her throat softly, and he jumped.

"Jess, I... hello," he said.

"Your Majesty," she said, dipping into a curtsy.

"Stop that this instant, or I'll knock you into the fountain here," he growled at her.

Jessimyn smiled. "You might try, but we both know who would end up all wet."

Alistair returned her smile but said nothing. And then the pause went on a little too long and became awkward. Jessimyn shifted from one foot to the other. "You... wanted to see me?"

"Of course," he said, giving his head a shake. "Please, sit down."

Even after she sat next to him, Alistair seemed unable to find his voice, but Jessimyn just waited patiently. After a moment, he reached to take her hand, and she let him. It was then that he finally was able to speak. "Are we sure we can't make this work out? I mean, are we _really_ sure?"

"Alistair," Jessimyn sighed.

"I know, I know. It's crazy, but I have a hard time letting the idea go. Even if I didn't love you, I know you would make a wonderful queen."

"Except for that one important thing, or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," he said. "But something your brother told me got me thinking..."

_Fergus, _she seethed inside. _Remind me to leave some _real _bruises the next time I see you._

"He said that when we were together, when we were traveling... you know, when we were _together_..."

"Yes," said Jessimyn, trying not to sound exasperated. "When we had sex. Go on."

"Right, that. Well, he said that you were probably taking something. Some sort of tea, I can't remember the name, but he said it was to keep you from conceiving. So maybe..."

Jessimyn just shook her head. "Don't you see, that doesn't change anything? It's most likely that I was just drinking a foul-tasting tea that was unnecessary to drink. So what would happen if we _did_ marry, and we could never have a child? Would you put me aside for a new wife who could give you lots of babies? Do we resign Ferelden to civil war when the nightmares come and we have to leave for the Deep Roads because every noble family feels they have a right to the throne? Do you name Fergus' children as your heirs, since they would be the closest thing to family that you'd have? I wouldn't suggest that one, since I'm likely going to kill him when next I see him, which may put a damper on his ever having more children."

"You're right," sighed Alistair. "You're always right."

Sitting there, looking at her king, the man she loved, Jessimyn came to a decision she'd been mulling over for the past few days. "I think I need to leave, Alistair. You need to find a wife. Maybe not immediately, but soon, and I think that will be too hard to do if I'm still around."

"Where will you go?" Alistair asked.

"I need to go to Weisshaupt. Word of what has happened here will spread quickly, and I'd rather make the trip there before they summon me."

"What will you tell them?"

She shook her head. "That, I don't know. If I can't think up something good, I'll have to claim ignorance. But it's a long trip, so I'll have plenty of time to think about it."

Alistair leaned forward and kissed her brow before leaning forward to embrace her. They remained like that for a long while before Jessimyn pulled away and stood up. "I think I'm going to say goodbye now. I'll pack my things and leave quietly. You know I don't want a scene."

"That's probably for the best," said Alistair as he, too, stood up. "And don't be too hard on your brother. I think his heart was in the right place."

"I know," Jessimyn admitted. "And I believe he thinks highly of you. He will be a powerful ally to you in the years to come. He's cunning and shrewd, and sometimes so annoying you could strangle him, but he's loyal and good, and he has an eye for things that others might miss. He won't try to flatter you, but his advice is often sound. He can be trusted, and I think he will help you out whenever you need it."

"That is high praise, coming from you," said Alistair. "But then, I should expect such traits from your own brother. Especially the 'sometimes annoying' part."

Jessimyn laughed and playfully hit him on the arm, and Alistair pulled her into another embrace. "I'll expect a full report when you return from Weisshaupt, no matter how long it takes for you to return," he said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," she said before once again stepping back out of his arms. She turned then and walked out of the garden, not trusting herself to turn and look at him.

The trip back to the apartments was quicker than the one she'd taken to the garden, and Jessimyn wasn't surprised to find Fergus waiting for her.

"Well?" He asked expectantly.

"I'm going to my room to pack, Fergus. I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

"To Weisshaupt," said Jessimyn. "I'm still a Grey Warden, even if this Blight is over. I have duties to attend to."

"I'll go with you, then," said Fergus. "Well, at least as far as Highever. I'm sure the king won't want me hanging about for too much longer. You can take a ship from there to Minrathous."

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, I think I'm going to go by land. There are some things I want to do along the way. Besides, I need you to stay here in Denerim, at least for a while. I have something I need you to do for me."


	4. Fergus Chapter 4

All of the required parties, feasts, and speeches were done, and the royal palace was finally starting to quiet down. Most of the visiting nobility had returned to their respective estates, yet Fergus still found himself unable to leave Denerim. For one, he wanted to give his people plenty of time to wipe all traces of Rendon Howe's presence from Castle Cousland. The thought that the man had taken over his home caused Fergus to seethe with anger every time he thought about it. However, there was more keeping him in Denerim than that. There were also the promises Jessimyn had extracted from him before she left.

It almost made him proud to think of how easily she'd manipulated him into getting her way. Growing up, Fergus had always been the one interested in affairs of state, in the workings of the noble classes, and in the art of manipulation. He was always the one who had participated in his father's lessons, while his sister had seemed more interested in her weapons and her suitors. Perhaps she had paid more attention than he thought. Or maybe she really had grown over the past two years.

And so he waited. Fergus wanted to make the king come to him, and it was a little over a week after his sister had left that he was rewarded for his patience. Fergus made his way to the king's private sitting room to answer his summons. He was almost grateful to Alistair for waiting so long to call on him, since it gave him time to prepare what to say. Upon entering the room, one of the king's servants served them both drinks. Alistair seemed to be in no hurry to ask the man to leave, but neither would he speak with him present. After what seemed like an eternity, the two men were alone.

"You wished to see me, Your Majesty?" Fergus asked, keeping his voice casual.

"Yes, I..." Alistair frowned, choosing his words. "I want you to know that I am grateful to the support you have shown me, as well as for the support I expect from you in the future. But I am wondering if there was something you... needed of me."

Fergus grinned. "You're wondering why I am still here, when most of your arls and banns have already returned home."

"I am curious," admitted the king. "I know that you have been away from your home for a long time, and I'm sure there are pressing matters to attend to in Highever. Was there a reason for your delay in returning?"

"I've just been concerned, Your Majesty. You see, with Loghain's death, I am the only teryn left in Ferelden. And while I enjoy being second only to you, I worry that the other nobles might find that dangerous, especially considering who my sister is."

Alistair frowned, and Fergus continued his speech. "I think you should appoint another teryn of Gwaren, preferably one of the southern arls who supported you in the Landsmeet. I think Arl Wulff would be suitable. His words carry great weight with the southern lords, and he could be as powerful an ally as I can be. And while he sadly lost both of his sons, he also has two daughters. I think you should consider marrying his eldest, Lyrina."

The frown remained on Alistair's face as he spoke. "You do seem determined to marry me off, it would appear. Why is that? And why her? I don't know her well, but she doesn't seem to be a terribly remarkable woman."

_Because she's who Jessimyn picked out for you,_ Fergus thought but did not say. "If you make her father a teryn, she's the logical choice. Look, I'll be honest with you. I've heard talk from many of the nobles, some who have come to me directly, who have said they think you and Jess should marry. These are men and women who know nothing of the relationship between the two of you, yet they see her as the best choice. If you wed the lesser daughter of an arl or a bann, many will wonder why, and you will not be able to explain it away without betraying secrets it seems the two of you wish to keep. However, if Lyrina is the daughter of a teryn, she becomes equal in standing to my sister."

"At least as far as titles go," said Alistair absently, and Fergus was pleased with this response.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I'm sure you'll agree that no one can truly compare to Jessimyn Cousland."

Alistair frowned and chose not to respond to that. Instead, he said, "But why so soon? Am I not allowed time to get used to being king before I have to get used to being husband as well?"

"I'm afraid not," said Fergus. "Especially if producing an heir will be as difficult as you seem to think it will be. No, I think it's best to marry as soon as possible. And I think it's especially important to marry before Jess returns from the Andefels."

The king regarded the teyrn for a long time, but Fergus showed no sign of agitation. Alistair sighed. "Jessimyn asked me to trust you, but this is something I need to think on."

Fergus nodded, "Of course, Your Majesty. In fact, I suggest you talk it over with Arl Eamon, as you seem to value his advice. I'm sure he'll agree that this is the best course of action here. But do not wait too long. If you marry Lyrina while Jess is away, there will be less chance of a scandal, since my sister won't be in the public eye. There will also be less chance of jealousy from your new wife, who would likely see a Cousland as competition. No, the sooner you go through with this, the better."

"I... you have given me much to think on, Fergus. I think I _will_ speak with Eamon about it."

Fergus smiled and rose from his chair. "A wise decision, Your Majesty," he said as he bowed graciously and excused himself from the room. When he returned to his sitting room, Fergus informed his servants that they would be leaving soon and to being preparing their things for the trip back to Highever. He sat down, recalling his last conversation with his sister.

"_But why Lyrina," he had asked. "She's such a dull, timid woman. Pretty enough to look at, sure, but not much more than that."_

"_That's what Alistair needs, don't you see? If he finds himself with a strong, outspoken wife, he's more likely to defer to her, to let her lead. If that's what I thought was good for him, I would have tried to convince him to marry Anora. No, what he needs is a woman of high standing who will bear him as many children as possible but otherwise stay out of his way."_

"_Someone who will not try to steal your influence over him, you mean?" Fergus asked with a sly smile. "Someone he can be with but who will not stop him from being in love with you."_

"_Do not think me so cruel as that, Fergus," protested Jessimyn. "I want him to be happy, I do. But I also want him to be a strong leader. He needs someone who will support that and not try to take his power away from him. And I have no illusions that he will not grow to care for the woman he marries. But no, I don't want him to be with someone who will try to turn him against me, either."_

So he had allowed her to talk him into going to the king with her idea. She had been convincing, but Fergus had had time to ponder her plan before meeting with the king, and he'd realized that Jessimyn's ideas, though a little naive, did not necessarily conflict with his own. In fact, he could fulfill her wishes while twisting them to accommodate his own. The best part was that Jessimyn would be gone for at least a year, if not longer, and she would have no way to interfere with what he had planned. No, it looked like everything might work out exactly as he wanted.


	5. Jessimyn Chapter 5

It was Jessimyn's turn to keep watch, and she sat near the fire, the large map of Thedas open in front of her. Not for the first time, she wondered if she was being foolish for not taking a more direct route to Weisshaupt. And not for the first time, she reminded herself that she wasn't really in a hurry. So they took the roundabout way: south from Denerim through South Reach and Lothering to get to Redcliffe, then north to visit the Circle Tower. From there, north past Orzammar to Jader, across the Waking Sea to Cumberland, and then it was just a long trip north on the Imperial Highway until reaching Weisshaupt. No, definitely not the quickest way to get there, but it allowed her to pass through all the places she wanted to visit along the way. Besides, the longer it took for her to return to Ferelden, the better things would be. She hoped.

With a sigh Jessimyn folded her map and shoved it into her pack. She stood up and stretched, then began a slow walk around the campsite. Jessimyn had been surprised to realize she missed being on the road. Growing up in Highever had given her an appreciation, even an expectation, for lush accommodations, yet sleeping on a bedroll under the stars seemed more natural to her. Once she was a ways away from the fire, she turned her back to it to allow her eyes to fully adjust to the dark. All was quiet but for the chirp of insects or the occasional hooting of an owl.

Turning her face to the sky, Jessimyn looked up at the stars. They looked different away from the cities, and they were one of the things she missed most when she was in Denerim. All the memories she had of staring up at them while lying next to Alistair came back to her, and she suddenly felt wistful. Lost in thought, Jessimyn didn't hear the person approaching until they were right upon her, and she jumped at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

"You must be very tired, to allow me to sneak up on you like that," said Leliana. "It is my turn to take watch now anyway. Why don't you try to get some sleep, yes?"

"Oh, I'm not tired," said Jessimyn. "Just... thinking."

"Thinking about what? Or should I say, thinking about whom?"

Jessimyn gave her head a little shake. "I just realized I miss our little group. It seems a little lonely with just the three of us."

"It is hard to be away from him?" Leliana asked, a smile playing across her lips.

About to protest, Jessimyn realized it was useless. After all, Leliana could always tell when she was lying. "Yes, but it's not just him. I miss Wynne being here, always ready with advice, whether I wanted it or not. And Oghren. He could always make me laugh. Even Morrigan... I wish she had stayed around long enough to say goodbye, but..." Jessimyn trailed off.

Neither she nor Alistair had told anyone else of what had transpired that night in Redcliffe. Thinking about it still made her uneasy. Not about the fact that Alistair had spent the night with another woman, of course, but rather that, in defeating one evil, they might have created another, one yet unknown to them but one that could come back to haunt them in the future. She often wondered if they still would have agreed to Morrigan's deal had they had more time to contemplate what it might mean.

A teasing tone in her voice, Leliana asked, "And what would you say you missed about Zev and me, were we not accompanying you?"

Jessimyn grinned. "Ah, but you _are_ accompanying me. I'm glad at least that the two of you hadn't left Denerim yet. It would have been very lonely to be traveling on my own."

That much was true. Save for Morrigan, all of the others had come to say their goodbyes before they left. Sten had been the first to go, and the rest had gone in the following weeks, all but Leliana and Zevran. So Jessimyn had gone looking for them before she left Denerim, to see if they were still about and wanted to travel with her. It was likely they wouldn't stay with her for the whole trip, as Leliana talked about going to Val Royeaux once they reached Orlais, and Zevran spoke of going to Antiva City, although the two women continued to try to talk him out of it.

"Oh, I don't think either of us could stay away from you," said Leliana. "After all, things are always so... exciting around you."

Jessimyn snorted. "Oh right, nearly dying is always exciting. Let's do it again and again, shall we? I can't get enough of it."

"Can't get enough of what," came a voice from behind them. "Are you two talking about me again? All your chattering has disrupted my beauty sleep."

With a groan, Jessimyn said, "I'm going to bed. I'd suggest you do the same, Zevran, since it's your turn to take watch in a few hours."

"You wish to go to bed with me? Very well, I accept."

"Oh no," said Jessimyn, with a shocked look on her face that almost seemed sincere. "I'd hate for you to lose out on your beauty sleep. You do desperately need it."

Zevran put his hand to his chest. "You wound me, my dear Jessimyn. I demand an apology."

"Goodnight, Leliana," said Jessimyn before turning to go back to her bedroll, ignoring the elf as she went.

The fire was starting to die down, so Jessimyn poked at it before removing her boots and climbing into her bedroll. They had tents with them, but the night was so nice that they'd chosen not to set them up so they could travel longer. She snuggled down beneath her blankets and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift back to memories of Alistair. Unaware of how caught up in her thoughts she was getting, Jessimyn jerked when she heard a noise. She opened her eyes to see Zevran standing over her, a wide grin on his face.

"What do you want, Zev?" Jessimyn's voice was a little strained, and she hurriedly pulled her hands up from under her blankets.

"I was just worried about you, that is all. You seemed to... have an itch? Perhaps some sort of biting insect has crawled inside your bedroll? Shall I take a look for you?"

"Go to sleep, Zevran," said Jessimyn, rolling over to turn her back to him, hoping the darkness of the night would hide the blush of her cheeks.

In the morning, they packed their things quickly and were traveling once again. There seemed to be a comfortable familiarity with it all, and Jessimyn felt truly at ease for the first time since Riordan had informed her that someone would have to die in order to defeat the archdemon. She was also very grateful for her companions. They kept her laughing, and for the most part they managed to keep her mind off of the things she'd left behind in Denerim.

It was strange not to be worried about darkspawn attacks or ambushes by Loghain's men as they made their way through South Reach and Lothering. In both places they stopped for only a day, to restock their supplies and get a hot meal. They always asked for any news or rumors, but Jessimyn found that they were usually better-informed about what was going on in Ferelden than the residents of the towns they visited.

When they reached the outskirts of Redcliffe, they paused. Jessimyn stood on the hill overlooking the town, trying to decide whether to go into the town first, or to go directly to the castle.

"Are you waiting for someone to run out and inform us of some imminent darkspawn threat? We may be out of luck this time," Leliana teased.

"Yes, I thought we were missing something," said Jessimyn with a smile. "I suppose we should head to the castle first."

When they reached the gates they were shown in without much trouble. A guard led them to a sitting room off of the main hallway, and Bann Teagan arrived shortly thereafter.

"My lady," he said with a bow. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Bann Teagan," said Jessimyn. "It is good to see you again. We were actually just... passing through and hoped me might stop here for a few days." She knew her excuse seemed weak, but she wasn't quite ready to get into the real reason for their visit. Maybe after a bath and a meal that consisted of something other than dried meat.

"Of course," said the bann. "But please, call me Teagan."

"Only if you will call me Jessimyn," the Grey Warden responded.

A snicker from Zevran drew their attention, and Jessimyn arched an eyebrow at him. "Something amusing?"

"What?" Zevran asked in mock innocence. "No, of course not. Well actually, I was just recalling this joke I once heard about a noblewoman and a farm boy. You see, the farm boy once lost his favorite pitchfork, and the noblewoman..."

"Zevran," Jessimyn cut him off, but Leliana just giggled.

Teagan looked a little confused, but after a short pause, he said, "...I'll have a servant show you up to the guest rooms. You can freshen up from your journey, if you like."

Jessimyn was a little dismayed to see that she was shown to the same room she'd had the last time she'd been in Redcliffe. She almost expected Morrigan to be waiting for her when she stepped through the doorway. At her request, a tub was brought up, and she soon found herself relaxing in the comfort of the warm, soapy water. That was really the only complaint of traveling as they were – the lack of hot bathwater. When she climbed out, she searched her bags for the cleanest dress she could find, which still had to be shaken out to rid it of the dust that seemed to settle over everything she owned. When she went back downstairs, she was informed that Leliana and Zevran had both gone down to the village. Jessimyn was hardly surprised, as neither seemed to like being among nobility unless they were playing at their intrigues.

Teagan found her in the library and invited her to have a drink with him before dinner was to be served. As they settled themselves across from each other, he asked, "So, if I may be so bold as to inquire, why are you _really_ in Redcliffe, Jessimyn? I had thought your traveling days were over. In fact, I had expected that you would be... settling in Denerim."

Ignoring the hidden question there, she replied, "Actually, I am on my way to Weisshaupt. As a Grey Warden, it is my duty to report on the Blight and the death of the archdemon."

"Weisshaupt, is it?" Teagan asked. "And you're coming from Denerim? You are taking the scenic route, then?"

Smiling, Jessimyn said, "Something like that. I have a few stops to make along the way, and this is the first of them. There is someone here I wished to see."

Teagan leaned forward in his seat, suddenly very interested. "Is that so. And who might that be?"

"One of your guards. Ser Theon is his name. He is still here, I hope?"

His eyes narrowing, Teagan asked, "And what would you want with him?"

The question came off sounding a little suspicious, and Jessimyn realized what he must have been thinking, that she had come to Redcliffe for the purpose of seeing him. Yes, they had flirted a little when she'd seen him last, but he couldn't have thought there was any more to it than that. After all, he was just a bann, and she was... starting to sound like her brother, Maker help her. She grimaced to herself.

"I was hoping to recruit him into the Grey Wardens. I was very impressed with his skills when he helped defend the castle."

"Aahhh..." said Teagan, seeming to mull this over. He was silent for a moment before responding. "Yes, he is still in Redcliffe. Down in the barracks, most likely. I can send for him, if you like?"

Jessimyn smiled. "Perhaps tomorrow? For tonight, I think I simply wish to eat and then get some sleep."

Teagan agreed, and their conversation moved to other topics as they drank. He asked after Alistair, and Jessimyn couldn't help but feel like he was observing her closely for her reactions to his questions. It was irritating, the way everyone seemed to think they knew everything about her. Hadn't she and Alistair been discreet? She wanted everyone in Ferelden convinced that there was nothing between the two of them, and that his (hopefully) upcoming nuptials were not hindered by any feelings he might have for another woman. Perhaps she needed to try harder to make sure no one thought she had feelings for him, either?

Later that night, after the castle had grown quiet, Jessimyn went to knock on Teagan's door. He seemed surprised she was there, but he readily admitted her to his room. She felt a touch of guilt that she was leading him on, but it _had_ been months since she'd been with a man. Besides, Teagan was not so bad to look at, and if she really wanted, she could just close her eyes and pretend he was someone else.


	6. Alistair Chapter 6

The dinner was a relatively private affair. Alistair sat at one end of the table, while Eamon sat at the other. To the king's left was Arl Wulff... no, that was Teyrn Wulff now. Across from the new teyrn sat his eldest daughter, Lyrina. Eamon and Wulff were doing most of the talking, while Alistair pretended like what was on his plate was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen before. Lyrina kept very quiet as well, and she appeared to be as terrified as her would-be fiancé. Well, at least they had that in common.

Trying not to be too obvious, Alistair watched Lyrina out of the corner of his eye. She was a few years younger than him, he thought. Her wavy, light brown hair fell to just past her shoulders, and her large, brown eyes were framed by long, dark lashes. It was true that she was pretty, but Alistair couldn't help but compare everything about her to Jessimyn. That wasn't fair, though, and he knew it. However, she'd barely said two words since the dinner began, and the king was having trouble trying to find good qualities in her. Hopefully she was just shy, and she would loosen up around him once he got to know her.

But then, what must Lyrina think of him, he wondered. After all, he'd barely said anything, either. He glanced at her again, only to catch her looking at him. They both looked away quickly, trying to pretend they hadn't just made eye contact. Suddenly, both Eamon and Wulff rose from the table. Alistair looked to Eamon, trying to keep the terror from showing in his eyes.

"Where are you going?" He asked. Was his voice normally that high-pitched?

"The teyrn and I are going to finish discussing the arrangements for the announcement of your engagement," said Eamon. "We thought we'd give the two of you time to get to know each other a little better."

"Oh... of course," said Alistair.

Then the two men were gone, leaving the couple to blush and stare at anything but each other.

"So... tell me about yourself," Alistair said. Oh yes, that was very smooth. Very original and thought-provoking, that question.

"What would you like to know, Your Majesty?" Lyrina squeaked.

"Um... have you been to Denerim much before?"

Lyrina shook her head. "No, I usually stayed at home when my father would come here. The last time I was in Denerim was for..." She paused, and she almost looked afraid to continue.

"For what?"

"Well... for King Cailan and Queen Anora's wedding." Lyrina fidgeted in her seat. "But it was an important event for Ferelden. Everyone was there."

_Everyone important_, Alistair thought, surprised by the bitterness he felt. After all, he hadn't attended his own brother's wedding. He'd been but a lowly templar-in-training at the time. Not that he'd even been invited. "Well... do you like Denerim?"

"It's... very nice, Your Majesty," said Lyrina.

"You can call me Alistair," said the king. "It's only right, if we're going to be... you know, if we're..." _Just say it, _he told himself. "If you're going to be queen."

Lyrina just blushed and ducked her head, and Alistair suddenly felt very frustrated. Things had never been this awkward with Jessimyn. Even when they first met they'd had an easy time of making conversation with each other. But again, that was unfair, wasn't it? There had been no expectations between them, as they were simply two soldiers in an army. And who could say if things would have been different, had he known that first day that she was a daughter of a teyrn, had she known he was the son of a king. No, it wasn't right to compare the two. He needed to push Jessimyn from his mind.

Maybe it was time to try a different approach. "Look, I know we don't know each other at all, so this is strange for me, too. You must know I was never raised to be... to think I'd ever find myself in this place, but here I am. I just want you to know that... I will be good to you. You needn't worry otherwise. And has anyone ever told you how funny I am? Not a wittier king you'll likely ever meet." Alistair grinned at her.

She looked up at him and actually smiled, and Alistair knew he'd said the right thing. After that, they'd fallen into a more relaxed conversation. They both still seemed guarded, but some of the tension had left the room. When Wulff and Eamon returned, Alistair actually found he was sorry the meeting was ending. The formal goodbyes were given, and then the teyrn and his daughter left.

"So, what do you think of her?" Arl Eamon asked.

"She seems... nice," Alistair began, but Eamon talked over him.

"The engagement will be announced, with the wedding to take place in three months. That will allow plenty of time for preparations and for your nobles to travel here for the event. Teyrn Wulff and Lyrina will remain in Denerim during that time, so you will have more chances to speak with both of them. I'd suggest taking advantage of that as much as possible. It might make the wedding a little easier on you."

Eamon regarded the man who was like a son to him, the man he'd help place on the throne, and he almost felt pity for him. "I know this is hard for you, my boy, but you must put your feelings for Jessimyn aside. It's what is best for..."

With a flash of anger, Alistair snapped, "Yes, everyone seems to know what is best for me, don't they? Apparently what is best is to have the woman I love taken away from me, to be replaced by some other woman I don't even know. You married for love, Eamon. Why can't I? What's the point of being king if I can't have the things I want?"

The arl didn't answer right away, and Alistair felt shamed by his outburst. Just because Eamon was the only person in the palace who knew about Jessimyn, that didn't give Alistair the right to lash out at him. "I'm sorry," he said, but Eamon shook his head.

"It's all right, Alistiar. Yes, I married for love, but I was not king. Also, she and I..." He frowned, apparently trying to put his words as gently as possible. "She and I both agreed that we wanted to get married, that we should get married. Jessimyn is gone, Alistair. You don't know when she'll return, and I thought you had both agreed that getting married was not in the best interest of Ferelden. In time, you will grow to love Lyrina, I'm sure. And I agree with Teyrn Cousland's assessment that she will make a good queen for you. However, the engagement has not yet been announced, if you wish to change your mind. I warn you, though, this will bring ill will from your southern lords."

"No, I don't want to call it off," Alistair sighed. "I suppose the sooner we get the whole thing over with, the better."

Eamon patted Alistair on the back before making his excuses, leaving the king alone with his thoughts. That was one of the worst parts of being king, Alistair realized. He had too much time to himself, too much time to think about things, and people, that he shouldn't be thinking about. In a sick way, he found himself almost wishing for some sort of unrest in the nation. Armies and battles he knew, and he missed the easy camaraderie of being amongst other fighters. In the Grey Wardens he had simply been one of many, at least until Ostagar. Even afterwards, he was part of a group, and he missed that feeling of belonging.

He found himself wishing he had a friend in the palace, a confidant to whom he could express all his troubles. Of course there was Eamon, but he more filled the role of father-figure than friend. The problem, though, was that there were too many secrets he kept, and Alistair found himself wary to divulge them to just anyone. But then, what about Fergus, Alistair wondered. After all, the man already knew about his past, he knew of Alistair's feelings for Jessimyn. As her brother, surely he could not use the information he had against either of them. Besides, Fergus was already in a high place of power, so he was much less likely to try to manipulate Alistair for his own gain.

Maybe he should send a message to Highever, Alistair began thinking, to ask for Fergus to come back to Denerim sooner than just for the wedding. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. After all, perhaps the man could be a valuable advisor as well as a friend. Jessimyn had said he could trust her brother, and perhaps if he had a Cousland's blessing for the things he did, Alistair would feel less like he was betraying the woman he truly loved.

With that decided, Alistair sent for a scribe. He dictated the letter to be sent, careful of the words he used so as to not give too much away, and instructed the man to have it sent to Highever right away. Hopefully Fergus would be able to return quickly, even though he had only been back in Highever for a short while, probably only a little over a month. But then, the summons of a king held some weight, so surely the man would not delay returning, and he could be back in Denerim in less than a month's time. The sudden calm that enveloped him surprised Alistair, and he knew he had made the right decision.


	7. Jessimyn Chapter 7

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for checking out my latest chapter. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think, especially if you think it's going too slow. With what I have planned, I think this story is going to get very long before it's finished, but I'm really enjoying writing it._

_~***~_

They only stayed in Redcliffe for a few days, but Jessimyn found herself feeling very relieved once they finally left. Apparently sleeping with Teagan had been a mistake. Not that it hadn't been enjoyable, but the bann had suddenly become very clingy. It seemed as though every time she turned around, he was there. He had insisted on being present when she met with Ser Theon, he was there when she'd sparred with him, and he'd stood a little too close to her as she watched both Zevran and Leliana spar with the knight. There had been the invitations for her to join him in his room each night after the first, all of which she politely declined, and he had even come to knock on her door on the evening before they were preparing to leave, although Jessimyn had pretended she was asleep. Then there was the embarrassing incident at dinner one night, when Teagan had attempted to hold her hand. She was pretty sure her companions had noticed, and that bothered her more than anything.

At least Theon had not been a disappointment. He was very skilled, and he seemed very eager about the prospect of becoming a Grey Warden. In fact, their sparring session had drawn more observers than just Teagan. Many of the castle's other knights and guards had come out, too, and Jessimyn couldn't help but notice the jealous looks on some of their faces. There had even been a few who had approached her about going along with her, and it had made her uncomfortable to turn them down. Yes, it was good that they were leaving.

As they waited on the docks for the ship that would take them to the Circle Tower, Jessimyn prayed Teagan wouldn't make a scene. Once the ship arrived, the crew scurried to load their things, after which their party could board and they would be off. It was almost time to go when Jessimyn saw Teagan walking over to her, and she gritted her teeth.

"Bann Teagan," she said hurriedly, before he could begin. "We wish to thank you for your hospitality, as well as for procuring this ship for us." She hoped the formality of her words would give him the hint, but they failed.

Teagan spoke softly, for that at least Jessimyn was thankful, though she wished he wouldn't stand so close. "I wish you didn't have to leave so soon, just when we were... getting to know each other."

Taking a step backwards, Jessimyn said, "My duty is to the Grey Wardens. Everything else is secondary." There was the call from the captain that they could begin boarding the ship, thank the Maker. "We have long travels in front of us and must be on our way. Farewell."

With that, she turned and boarded the ship with Zevran, Leliana, Theon, and the handful of others who had business on the other side of Lake Calenhad. She pointedly did not look back to the docks as they shoved off, but she didn't like the grin Zevran was giving her. Leliana immediately pulled Theon aside, which pleased Jessimyn. The knight was altogether too quiet, and the bard was good at getting people to open up. A smile played across her lips as she watched the two of them together, watched Theon blush at something Leliana said. The smile left, however, when she heard Zevran come up beside her.

"You are quite the little heart breaker it would seem, my dear Jessimyn. The poor bann looked as though he was going to cry that you didn't give him a goodbye kiss."

Jessimyn snorted. "I don't know what you're talking about, Zev."

"No? Then let me explain. It would seem to me that you seduced that poor man and left him wanting more. I thought perhaps we would get to see him propose to you right there on the docks."

"I gave the man no reason to think there was anything more to it than..." She trailed off, peering at Zevran. "Oh, forget it."

"Oh no," said Zevran, looking highly amused. "More than what? More than just an... itch you needed to scratch? Those biting insects followed you from your bedroll into the castle, perhaps?"

Jessimyn couldn't help it, and she laughed. "Well, is it my fault? I made no promises. Why is it that men think that sex has to be accompanied by love?"

"Oh, has that been your experience? I always thought it was women who made that mistake."

She shook her head. "Actually, it seems like most men think that sex will bring a title with it."

"Ah yes, the strain of being nobility, being chased by men who only want you for your family name," said Zevran, and Jessimyn couldn't help but notice the mockery in his voice.

"You wouldn't understand, Zev."

"Oh no? Why, because I am the lowly son of a whore? I know what it is, to feel like people only want you because of what you can offer them. That is why, to me, sex is just sex. Unless it's bad sex, then it's not worth my time. Perhaps the next time you get an itch, you'll remember that. After all, I wouldn't have any expectations beyond a night of your wildest dreams," he grinned at her.

"And then you fall head over heels for me, feel spurned, and end up leaving me. No, that won't do. I think I want to keep you around, not drive you away," teased Jessimyn.

"No need to worry about that," Zevran said, surprising Jessimyn by the gentleness in his voice. "You know there is no room in my life for love, nor is there room in your heart for anyone other than..."

Jessimyn shushed him. "Names are dangerous, Zev."

"Come," he said, changing the subject. "Let's go see what Leliana is telling that poor recruit of yours to make him turn such a charming shade of red."

The trip across the lake went smoothly, and they found themselves at the Circle Tower late that night. They were shown rooms and reassured that both Greagoir and Irving would be informed of their arrival first thing in the morning. In her room, Jessimyn flipped through a number of the papers she had brought with her. She chewed on her bottom lip nervously, as she knew that if this meeting didn't go well, it would change all her plans. Rather, it would ruin all her plans.

Luckily, it was Irving who sought her out first, and he invited her up to his office. "It looks like things are getting back to normal," said Jessimyn looking around.

"Yes, almost. But I doubt you came here to check on our progress. Was there something I could help you with?"

_Best to start with the easiest first_, she thought. "Well, first I am here in the hopes that I might find a recruit for the Grey Wardens. I was hoping you might know of a mage who might be suitable?"

Irving frowned, thinking this over. "Hmm... there might be at that. There is a young initiate named Kyran who is very talented who might be the sort you're looking for. He shows great promise when it comes to healing skills. Of course, he hasn't been through his Harrowing yet. It is scheduled to take place in two days, though, so if all goes well you may speak to him. So you have taken over Duncan's duties, then?"

"I... suppose I have. Even with the Blight over, Ferelden still needs Grey Wardens."

"Quite so," Irving agreed. "But I take it there's another reason you are here?"

Jessimyn nodded and pulled out the papers that she'd been holding onto since Riordan had given them to her. "I'm sure you don't know much of the Joining, as it's kept secret, but I have need of the help of a mage to do it. You don't have to be there for it, of course, but to get it ready... it requires lyrium, and magic, and... a few other things."

Irving held out his hand. "May I see those?" He asked, and Jessimyn obliged, feeling a little guilty that she was handing over Grey Warden secrets.

Tapping his lips with a finger, Irving skimmed the papers. "Hmm... yes, I could probably help out with this. However, the... blood?"

Jessimyn nodded. "The archdemon's blood. Yes, I... I have that with me, actually." After the dragon had been defeated, she'd gone back and collected a number of flasks worth, knowing it would be needed if she was to make any new Grey Wardens. She'd kept it hidden away, not even telling Leliana and Zevran that she had it. After all, it would only bring forward questions she didn't feel she had a right to answer.

"I see... and the darkspawn blood? Since it's listed separately, I assume it is something different."

"Yes, that I don't have right now. I think that's supposed to be... fresh, before the Joining. Will that be a problem? I was hoping you might be able to do all the rest, and then I could add that later."

With a frown, Irving turned his attention back to the papers. "I suppose that is possible. It looks like, if I do this part here, you could mix in the right amount before this... ceremony." He tapped the paper with a finger. "The lyrium should keep it fresh, although I wouldn't recommend waiting too long. Am I wrong to assume you won't be performing the ritual here?"

"No, not here," Jessimyn confirmed. "I hope to find at least one more recruit."

"Very well. I'll see what I can do. It might take some time, but I suppose if you're going to wait on Kyran, you're not in a great hurry."

Jessimyn thanked the First Enchanter and went to find her companions, which she found outside near the grounds where the templars were training. It looked like Theon had been coaxed into a sparring match with one of the templars, and they'd attracted a crowd. Jessimyn went to stand next to Leliana. "He _is_ eager to practice his skills, I'll give him that," she said gesturing to Theon.

"Yes," agreed Leliana. "But watch the other one. He's equally as good. Maybe even better."

Theon used a sword and shield, but the man he was sparring against was dual wielding a sword and a dagger, similar to Jessimyn's own style of fighting. It was true that Theon was very good, but his opponent was able to deflect everything he threw at him. Finally, the mystery man landed a blow on Theon's sword arm, followed quickly by one to his head. The practice sword made a dull clang as it hit Theon's helmet, and the fighting stopped. The knight bowed to the templar. "The match is yours, ser," he said.

Jessimyn clapped her hands together and hopped over the fence surrounding the practice yard. "Well done, both of you," she said before turning to the templar. "Care for another, or do you need time to rest?" She smiled at him. Theon moved off the field to go stand next to Leliana.

"I cannot fight you, my lady," said the man, looking a little shocked.

"That's the Grey Warden, Jakob!" Someone shouted from the other side of the yard.

"Jakob, is it? I'm Jessimyn." She walked over to a rack holding practice weapons and selected a sword and dagger. She tested their balance, then moved to stand in the middle of the yard.

The man still looked hesitant, but there was no way he could refuse with his peers standing nearby to cheer him on. He twirled his dagger in his left hand, then bowed to Jessimyn, so deep it was almost mocking. She returned the bow, and then they rushed towards each other. Jakob immediately went on the offensive, swinging his sword in a downward arc towards her left shoulder. She swung her own sword up and across her body to block it, then jabbed with her dagger. He was quick, and he jumped out of the way, causing the dagger to skid off the side of his armor. The shock on his face made it apparent he hadn't expected her to make contact at all.

They danced around each other, both effectively deflecting each others shots. Jessimyn became flushed, not just with the effort of the spar but also with the excitement she felt from meeting someone who was more than a match for her. Jakob swung a wild shot at her, trying to bring his sword down on her head, but Jessimyn crossed her sword and dagger and caught his sword between them. She twisted, and the sword flew out of his hand. Wasting no time, she swung both sword and dagger at his right arm and made a direct hit at the same time he jabbed his dagger into her stomach.

The crowd, which had grown even larger, erupted into applause. "You are a worthy opponent," said Jakob with a smile as he bowed to her, before jogging off to the side to be congratulated by his comrades. Jessimyn tossed her practice weapons to a nearby guard, then went over to Leliana and Theon. Zevran had also shown up, and he was watching Jakob appraisingly.

"I want him," said Jessimyn.

"Yes," agreed Zevran. "I can see why... although maybe you mean something different?"

Leliana and Jessimyn laughed, while Theon just blushed. The knight was going to have to loosen up if he was going to be around this group for long. Jessimyn turned to look at the templar, only to see that he was watching her as well. "I guess I need to speak with Greagoir," she said. "Maybe we'll leave here with two new recruits instead of just one."


	8. Fergus Chapter 8

The creak of the wheels on the carriage was very irritating, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it now. Perhaps once they reached Denerim, he would have someone look at it. Fergus tried not to grit his teeth as the carriage hit a particularly nasty bump in the road. He really detested traveling, he realized. If only he could make people come to him, instead of the other way around. But he could certainly not ignore the summons of his king. And actually, the summons itself caused Fergus to smile. Everything was turning out better than he had hoped.

And perhaps it was good to leave Highever. As much as Fergus had missed his home, it was difficult to be back, especially at night. There had been so much death there, and he was reminded of it wherever he went. It seemed wrong to retire to the room he had once shared with Oriana, only to have her not there, yet what was his alternative? He could have moved his things into his parents' old room, as he was the teyrn now, but that also seemed wrong. While Fergus was glad that Rendon Howe had died at Jessimyn's hands, he wished he had been there to see it, to take part in the man's death. He would have made sure the bastard truly suffered.

When he arrived in Denerim he was shown to his usual apartments in the palace. He'd barely been there a few hours before there was a knock on the door. Daynin opened it to admit the king.

"Your Majesty," said Fergus with genuine surprise. "You honor me. Daynin, why don't you go finish unpacking my things in my room."

"Yes, Your Grace," said Daynin as he left the two men alone.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," said Alistair, and Fergus could tell that he was very nervous. The teyrn gestured for the king to sit down, then he poured them both a drink.

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Fergus.

"I asked you to call me Alistair. Please. For I'm afraid what I wish to speak to you about isn't very kingly at all. I... well... I was actually hoping for a little advice, and since you seem to know more about my... situation than anyone else, I was hoping you might be the one to give it."

Fergus did his best not to show how pleased this made him. "Of course, Alistair. What can I help you with?"

"I'm sure by now you heard the news of my engagement. Of course you have. Not that you didn't already know about it anyway, since the whole thing was your idea. Not that it was a bad idea, of course. Now I'm babbling." The king took a moment to pull himself together. "I... well, I know you've been married before, and I was wondering... that is..." Alistair trailed off.

"The wedding night is nothing to be worried about," said Fergus, though he was quite sure that wasn't what the king was talking about. "Lyrina may not be as experienced as my sister is, but I assure you, things pretty much work the same way, regardless of the woman."

"No, that's... not it at all," said Alistair, blushing a bright red. "I was just wondering... Did you know your wife very well, you know, before you were married?"

Fergus frowned. He still found it painful to talk about Oriana, especially to someone who hadn't known her. "I'm not sure any man _really_ knows a woman well until they've been married a few years. These things take time. You can't expect it to be as easy for you as it would have been had you married my sister. After all, you and Jess basically spent every waking hour, as well as plenty of sleeping hours, together. Plus, you were really able to bond, what with everything you went through. While you won't have that with Lyrina in the beginning, the relationship will grow in time."

"It just seems so awkward," complained Alistair. "I mean, I'm just expected to... _be_ with someone I don't even know."

"Some men find that exciting," said Fergus with a grin. "Some men pay good money for that, in fact." He watched the king's face, wondering if he'd gone too far, but Alistair either ignored or didn't notice the hidden insult there.

"I guess I'm a man who prefers the familiar."Alistair shook his head. "But then, there's no use dwelling on that. So... what sort of advice can you give this soon-to-be married man? Anything you wish someone had told you beforehand?"

_This is why you had me rush from Highever?_ Fergus thought, but he put on a smile. The two men chatted for a long while, and Fergus made sure to mention Jessimyn's name whenever he could. Finally, Alistair left, and after Fergus closed the door behind him, he let out a long, exasperated sigh.

_That_ was the man his sister had fallen in love with? Surely a Cousland deserved someone with more ambition, someone who didn't whine so much. Yes, he was king, but Jessimyn had fallen for him before he knew he would be king. But then, he'd never understood her. She'd always fraternized with men who were far below her station, and now she was wandering around Thedas, acting like a common soldier. Well, hopefully all that would change, though not for the first time, Fergus wondered just how long it would take for his plan to come to fruition.

Over the next few weeks, Fergus did everything in his power to try and endear himself with the king. They met for drinks at least a few times each week, and when Alistair wasn't asking for advice, he was sharing with Fergus stories of his quest to defeat the Blight. While Fergus wasn't terribly interested in such tales, it did seem to be the easiest way to work his sister into the conversation. He did his best to keep Jessimyn on the king's mind while still appearing to be fully in support of Alistair's upcoming wedding. More than once, Fergus found himself grateful that his sister wasn't in Denerim. Had she been, she would have known exactly what he was up to.

As the wedding day drew nearer, Alistair grew more and more agitated in private, but he was getting better at putting on his kingly face in public. It pleased Fergus a great deal that the king trusted him enough to let down his guard around him. It was the easy trust of a man who hadn't spent his entire life mired in politics, so while Fergus didn't really understand it, he certainly wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to take advantage of it.

A lot of time was also spent finding out all he could about Lyrina. Fergus wasn't quite sure how Jessimyn had decided she would be the right choice for Alistair, as he didn't think the two had ever met before. It was true that the woman was meek and quiet and would not be the type to interfere with her new husband's rule, but that meekness had also kept her from doing anything interesting with her life, as far as Fergus and his spies could find out. It was proving very difficult to find any dirt on this woman who seemed to have spent most of her life walled up in her father's estate, doing needlework.

Fergus had even invited Lyrina and her father to dine with him one night, in the hopes that he could get her to open up a little, but she had stayed very quiet throughout, only answering questions that were asked of her directly. In fact, that dinner had taken a turn for the worse when Fergus discovered that Wulff was trying to not-so-subtly suggest his younger daughter as a bride for him. While Fergus had given the idea of remarrying some thought, he wasn't sure he was quite ready yet, and he was quite certain he didn't need anyone's help picking a suitable match. He had carefully turned the conversation away from that topic, but Lyrina's reaction to her father's suggestion had been interesting. Perhaps there was some bad blood between the sisters? That was something worth investigating.

Lyrina was pretty, though. That seemed to be the one compliment everyone could agree on. She and Alistair would make some handsome babies, of that Fergus was sure. He just hoped it wouldn't take as long as Alistair and Jessimyn seemed to think it might take. But Fergus could be patient. That was one of the big differences between the Cousland children. Jessimyn had always wanted everything right then, and she was no good at waiting. Fergus, on the other hand, could wait as long as was needed, as long as he knew he was going to get what he wanted in the end.


	9. Jessimyn Chapter 9

They had stayed at the Circle Tower longer than expected. Kyran had made it through his Harrowing and seemed interested in joining the Grey Wardens, but Jakob had presented a problem. First, he had been reluctant to even talk to Jessimyn about being recruited. Nothing she could say to him seemed to be enough to make him fully commit to joining up with her, and his indecisiveness grated on her nerves. Finally, Zevran had offered to have a talk with him. That had made Jessimyn wary, but when Jakob had come back fully agreeing to go with them, she became even more suspicious of what Zevran had said to him. Or done to him, perhaps? The elf refused to say, only giving her a sly grin when she asked him, but she had her recruit, so she supposed it didn't matter too much.

Of course, then Greagoir had posed a problem, too. He balked at the idea of Jessimyn taking not only a mage with her, but also one of his best templars. It wasn't until she threatened to use the Right of Conscription that he backed down and consented, but he wasn't pleased about it, and he made it clear every opportunity he got. Irving's experimenting with the Joining concoction took longer than expected as well, but a week and a half after they had arrived, he came to Jessimyn and told her it was ready.

"Finally!" Jessimyn complained to Zevran and Leliana as they sat in the dining hall, the afternoon Irving had informed her of his success. "We should be off as soon as possible. First thing in the morning, I think."

"I myself cannot wait to be gone from this place," said Zevran. "Way too much sexual tension in the air for my tastes."

They'd been laughing about that when the messenger arrived. A buzz began to build throughout the hall, and Leliana caught the arm of one of the templars as he passed by. "Be a dear and tell us what is going on," she said, smiling sweetly at him.

"Oh, uh, it's just... looks like the king's getting' himself married. Six weeks from tomorrow," the man said before hurrying off.

Zevran and Leliana shared a look before turning their attention to Jessimyn, whose face had gone a little pale.

"Jess," began Zevran, but she waved him off.

"No. It's fine. This is the way it's supposed to be. You'll have to excuse me, though. I'm... suddenly not hungry anymore." She hurriedly left the table.

"Should we go after her?" Leliana asked.

Zevran shook his head. "Not yet. And not both of us. I think you're better capable of dealing with this than me."

They finished their meal, then Leliana went off in search of Jessimyn. She checked her room, the gardens, and the baths before finally finding her outside in the practice yard, where she was attacking some poor, defenseless practice dummy.

"Whose face do you picture atop that dummy?" Leliana asked. "Is it Alistair's? Or his new queen's?"

Getting in one last hit, Jessimyn turned around, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Actually, it would probably be _my_ face," she said grimly. "Everything that has happened is my own doing, after all. I can't blame anyone else."

"Of course you can," Leliana stated cheerily. "You can always find someone else to blame, if you look hard enough." Her face became serious. "Do you want to talk about it."

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, I... there's nothing to say. I've moved on. He's moved on. Despite all your stories, there truly are no happy endings. Not in real life."

"You don't believe my stories are true?" Leliana asked, a shocked look on her face. "Have I ever told you the one about King Jasper and the rabid raccoon?" She hooked arms with Jessimyn as the two walked back up to the tower, and she soon had the Grey Warden laughing.

The group left at first light the next morning, and Jessimyn set a hard pace. She wanted to get to Orzammar, the next stop on their journey, as quickly as possible. She had everyone up before dawn so that they could have everything packed and ready to go as soon as the sun peaked over the horizon, and then they traveled until there was just enough light in the sky to set up their tents. Jessimyn kept mostly to herself, and while Alistair occupied a good deal of her thoughts, she also found herself worrying about the Joining. Was she a fool to want to go through with it before they got to Weisshaupt? After all, wouldn't it be safer to perform when there were people around who knew what they were doing?

One night, a week into the trek, Jessimyn found herself sitting on the ground, staring up at the sky. Theon, Jakob, and Kyran were all near the fire, listening to one of Leliana's stories. A part of her wanted to be there with them, to sit and talk and relax with her companions, but she held herself back. A movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Zevran approaching.

"So, I am curious," he said as he sat down beside her. "Is ignoring your recruits part of this Joining? Are you testing them to see who gets fed up and leaves first, and then everyone else becomes a Grey Warden? But then, that cannot be it, since I know you are not a patient woman, so you never would have passed that sort of test yourself."

"I'm not ignoring them," said Jessimyn, ashamed at how defensive her voice sounded.

"Oh no? You've barely said two words to them, to any of us really, since we left the tower. I've heard them speaking, when they think I cannot hear. They say you think you're better than them. You do not encourage loyalty by holding yourself apart from them. Besides, that's not like you. You like to be in the middle of things." He grinned.

"I'm. Not. Ignoring. Them. That's four words, actually."

"If this is because of Alistair..." began Zevran.

Jessimyn shook her head. "It's not. Truly it's not. It's... the Joining I'm worried about. I know I've never told you much about it, and I don't know how much I'm even supposed to say about it, if I'm supposed to say anything at all, but... it's got me scared. Sure, I took part in it when I became a Grey Warden, but I didn't really even know what was going on then."

"And you do now?" Zevran asked, and Jessimyn couldn't tell if he was teasing her or not.

"It's... dangerous, Zev. Not everyone survives it." She looked over at the three men. "At least one of those men won't be leaving with us when we leave Orzammar. I need recruits. Ferelden needs recruits. But it's a hard thing, almost like I'm condemning them to death."

"So this ritual, it could kill them?" He, too, looked at the recruits. "Can I make a suggestion for which one it will be?"

"Zev!" Jessimyn exclaimed, trying not to smile. "It's not funny. In my Joining..." She reached up to finger the pendant around her neck. "There were three of us. I was the only one to walk away from it."

He reached up to touch her cheek. "No one said being a hero from the storybooks would be easy. It never has been for you. It won't be for them. But that doesn't mean it's not worth it." Jessimyn looked startled at his sincerity, until he added, "Now if you want something that's easy... well, that's why you keep me around, yes?"

"Ah," she said, nodding her head. "Yes, that's the Zevran I know and love. You almost had me worried there for a second."

With that they joined the rest of the group, and as they traveled the rest of the way toward Orzammar, Jessimyn made more of an effort to get to know each of her recruits. Theon was quiet and shy, but he had a sense of nobility about him. He seemed slow to anger, but he was quick to respond to any sort of danger. In fact, when their group had been set upon by a pack of feral dogs one night, he had been the first to arms. He also seemed quite smitten with Leliana, a fact the bard was well aware of despite the fact that she pretended the opposite.

Kyran was like a child, sent outside on the first day of spring and told to go play. He was a little wild and full of energy, but also very innocent. That naive air about him worried Jessimyn. She hadn't seen him back down from any challenge presented to him, but she wondered how he would fare when faced with darkspawn. He would probably either laugh in their faces or run away screaming, she thought.

Jakob was also childlike, but in a different way. The man was selfish and spoiled. He complained until he got his way, a method that worked very well when he wanted something from Theon. He tried to bully Kyran, and Jessimyn tried to remind him that they were no longer templar and mage, but would soon be Grey Wardens and brothers. It didn't seem to do any good. Despite Zevran's initial reaction to the man, he'd come to dislike Jakob. He complained to Jessimyn many times that he couldn't believe he was the one who had convinced him to join up with them in the first place. Leliana, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy Jakob's company, though no one else knew why.

They'd finally fallen into an easy camaraderie by the time they reached Orzammar. When they got there, many of the guards at the front gates recognized Jessimyn, but they still seemed hesitant to allow her entrance into the underground city. When she reminded them for what seemed like the tenth time that she was a Grey Warden and had business in the Deep Roads, they finally consented. Once they got inside, she found out what the trouble was. King Harrowmont was sick. Some were saying he'd been poisoned.

"Should we head to the palace, do you think?" Leliana asked when they heard the news.

Jessimyn held up her hands. "No. We... Grey Wardens aren't to interfere with political affairs." At Leliana's raised eyebrow, she continued. "I know, I know. But what we did the last time we were here... it was only because there had to be a king. We weren't getting involved to try to influence the political events here, it was because we needed our army. Unless Harrowmont was poisoned by darkspawn, we have to stay out of it."

This answer obviously didn't sit well with Leliana, but there was nothing Jessimyn could do about it. She needed to take her recruits into the Deep Roads, where they would slay darkspawn and drink their blood in a ritual that would likely kill someone. Oh yes, much better than getting involved in Orzammar politics.

"Would you still say that if it was Alistair who was poisoned?" Leliana asked, pitching her voice low so only Jessimyn could hear.

With a flash of anger, Jessimyn stated, "If you want to go poking your head around where it doesn't belong while I'm gone, be my guest. But that's not why _I'm_ here."

"Jess..." began Leliana.

"Just... forget it. Come on, we need to find a place to stay for the night. Then the boys and I will head out in the morning."

They decided against staying in the Diamond Quarter, instead opting for a place in the commons. Jessimyn went to a nearby tavern and stayed up drinking, even after everyone else had gone to bed. When she finally stumbled back to the inn, she was surprised to see Zevran sitting in the waiting room.

"You're still up? Why aren't you sleeping? Isn't everyone else asleep?"

Zevran stood and walked over to her. "How did you manage to drink enough of that ogre piss to get drunk, woman?

"I'm not drunk," she said, and truly she wasn't. She only wished she was. Still, she allowed Zevran to lead her up to her room.

Jessimyn swung the door open and walked inside. Zevran was about to bid her goodnight when she spoke. "Zev, will you... do something for me?"

Zevran grinned. "You invite me into your room and ask me to 'do something' for you? Very well, I accept." He went inside and closed the door behind him.

Jessimyn chuckled. "Actually, I was hoping you might... deliver some messages for me. You know, if I... don't come back."

With a frown, Zevran asked, "You think this expedition will be that dangerous?"

"I know we've been in the Deep Roads before, but that was... different. I was with people I knew. I could trust that you had my back, just as I had yours."

"And what a gorgeous back it is!" Zevran exclaimed.

Jessimyn playfully slapped him on the knee. "I'm trying to be serious here." When he gave her a somber look, she continued. "I don't know what will happen out there. And before you ask again, no, you and Leliana cannot come with me. This is how it must be. But if I don't come back... there are two messages I'd like for you to deliver. Nothing in writing. Just..." She sighed. "Tell my brother... tell Fergus I did the best I could for the family. Tell him I died honorably, and that I'm with mother and father now."

"And Alistair?" Zevran prompted.

"Yes... Alistair..." She sighed. "Tell him my time came sooner than most. Tell him I died as any Grey Warden should die. And tell him... tell him that Duncan would be proud of him."

"Can I also tell him that, in camp, you liked to touch yourself while thinking about him... when you thought no one was looking?"

Jessimyn choked. "Okay, I see we're done here. You can leave my room now."

Zevran laughed as he stood up. "I will remember these messages, but I will have no need to pass them along, as I will see you back here in a few days."

Jessimyn watched him leave, staring at the door long after he had gone. "I hope you are right, my friend," she whispered.


	10. Jessimyn Chapter 10

The first few days of traveling in the Deep Roads, the group met only spiders and deep stalkers. Jessimyn had never before been so disappointed not to meet darkspawn. The oil and filth that covered every surface in the Deep Roads was interfering with her ability to sense them. There was always a faint feeling like there was something nearby, but she couldn't pinpoint where, and it was making her testy.

On the evening of the third day, they stopped to make camp in one of the larger rooms they had found. They liked choosing an area with a high ceiling to camp, so that they could make a fire. It was chilly down in the Roads, and not for the first time, Jessimyn found herself wishing she had someone to share her bedroll with. Just to keep warm, of course. Sitting near the fire, she was sipping a cup of tea when Jakob came to sit next to her.

"Soo..." he said. "You sure you know where you're going down here? I don't mean to question your leadership abilities, but it seems like we're just wandering around in circles."

Jessimyn sighed and tried to remain cool. This was a conversation they'd had every night since they'd left. "I've told you, Jakob. We're not in search of a specific destination. We need darkspawn blood, and that is what you three are out here to get."

"Yes, so you've said," he remarked with a smile. "But why can't we just use the stuff you've got with you?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know," he said, giving a casual shrug of his shoulders. "That big vial of what looks like blood in your bag. What's with that?"

Jessimyn leaned towards Jakob, her teeth clenched. "Have you been going through my things?"

His laugh made Jessimyn want to punch him in the nose. "Well, you do have all the tea, remember? I was just looking for some and..."

She grabbed the front of his shirt. "If you touch anything of mine every again, I'll..."

Jakob scoffed at her. "You'll what? Seems like you need me. That's what your knife-eared friend said. And looking around, I'd agree. You've got an immature mage and some nancy-boy knight. And you..."

"Shut up!" Jessimyn shouted, causing the others to look at her. Something had pricked her senses. She looked over to her right, but Jakob didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, can't take a little criticism, can you? Well..."

"To arms!" She shouted, cutting him off. She grabbed her weapons and jumped to her feet just as a group of hurlocks burst forth from a crack in the wall that she hadn't noticed being there before. Kyran and Theon were right behind her, but Jakob had to scramble over to his pack to get his dagger and sword.

Jessimyn rushed forward, taking out the first hurlock with a quick backhanded slash of her dagger. It collapsed to the floor, clutching at the gash at its throat. She brought up her sword to block the swing of an axe from another hurlock and gritted her teeth as the force of the collision ran up her arm. To her left, Theon stood, thrusting his shield into the face of the darkspawn that was attacking him, and Kyran stood between them, flames shooting from the tip of his staff. Jakob's delay had caused him to be apart from the rest of his group, and he had had three hurlocks surrounding him.

"Theon," Jessimyn shouted. "Help Jakob!"

Without a word, the knight used his shield to bash his way over to the templar, who already had a gash on his forehead and blood was dripping down from a cut on his arm. Together, they defeated the three hurlocks surrounding them, as Jessimyn and Kyran took out the two that remained near them, but then she felt something, another sense of darkspawn, but greater this time.

"We're not done," she shouted as the last hurlock fell. "To me!"

The others wordlessly moved closer to her as an ogre broke through from the crack in the wall. It roared at them, spittle flying from its mouth, before it charged.

"Maker..." Kyran gasped, and then it was upon them.

Theon used his sword and shield to keep the monster's attention, and the two seemed to be roaring back and forth at each other. Kyran stood back, throwing spells at the beast, and Jessimyn and Jakob tried to circle around behind it. Jessimyn slashed at its leg, and the ogre screamed, lashing out at her. All ogres seemed to fight the same way, and Jessimyn had been anticipating its move. She deftly jumped out of its reach. At that moment, Theon landed a hit on the ogre's arm and Jakob sliced at its other leg.

The ogre twisted, using its momentum to take a swing at Jakob, who wasn't expecting it and took a hit directly to his chest. The templar flew back through the air, landing hard on the rocky ground. However, with its back now to Theon, the knight took the opportunity to run his sword through the monster's side. Jessimyn took a step back, then sprung forward, leaping up to land on the ogre's back. She raised her sword and thrust it through the base of its head. With one final scream, the ogre slumped forward. Jessimyn jumped off as the beast fell, just managing to get free as it crashed to the ground.

With the death of the ogre, it suddenly seemed too quiet. Everyone stood panting, trying to catch their breath, and Jessimyn went forward to retrieve her sword from the ogre's head. They all seemed to remember Jakob at the same time and rushed over to him. He lay weakly on the ground, gasping as he clutched an arm that looked broken. Kyran moved forward to heal him, but Jessimyn placed a hand on his arm to stop him. The mage gave her a questioning look.

"You're right. We do need you, Jakob," she said, her tone serious. "But you need us, too. The Grey Wardens are not a group of solitary soldiers. We are a group. A family. If you are to be our brother, you must realize this."

He nodded, his face contorted in pain. "Yes, I... see that now."

"Heal him," Jessimyn said to Kyran. "And then fill three vials with darkspawn blood and bring them to me."

She walked back over the the fire and tsked softly as she noticed her teacup had been overturned. With a soft sigh, Jessimyn pulled more tea out of her pack and began brewing another pot. Theon walked over to her, almost shy in his manners, and sat beside her.

"Tea?" She offered, and the knight nodded.

"You were... amazing back there," he said, sounding stunned. "I never... I mean, sure, there were darkspawn in Redcliffe, but it seemed like everyone fought out of a sense of terror. But you..."

Jessimyn couldn't help but smile. "I've had lots of experience, Theon. But that doesn't mean I'm not frightened, too. When you completely lose your fear, that's when it gets dangerous. But you, even though you might be scared, you always have a calm about you. It's what brought you to my attention, actually." She noticed Kyran helping Jakob over near the fire and spoke louder, so they could all hear. "We may be few, but we are an army. Grey Wardens do not stand alone. We must learn to trust each other, to draw on each others' talents. It is easier to be confident in yourself if you can be confident in the people around you."

Jessimyn offered the others tea, but Jakob balked, "After that, don't you think we could use something a little stronger?"

"Not for you," protested Kyran. "Not after I just healed you. Alcohol would only slow the healing."

Jakob scowled, but Jessimyn was happy to see he didn't protest, something he'd always done before when the mage disagreed with something he said. She passed around the tea, then told the men to get some rest. While Jessimyn usually took first watch, she told them she would be taking the last watch that night. She wanted to get everything ready for the Joining before the other men were up.

When it was her turn for watch, Jessimyn found herself huddled close to the fire, trying to read the notes that Irving had left for her. She retrieved the flask he'd made for her and poured the contents into a large goblet. She then added the darkspawn blood and a tiny bit of lyrium from the pouch he'd provided, then set the goblet aside. When her companions awoke, Jessimyn instructed them to wash up and eat. She, however, had no stomach for food just then. Instead, she ran through what she was planning on saying, trying her best to remember what Duncan had said during her own Joining.

Without having to ask them to, the three gathered around her, and Jessimyn nodded to herself. It was time for the Joining to begin.

"During the first Blight, the Grey Wardens were founded to save humanity from destruction. It was then that the first Grey Wardens drank darkspawn blood and mastered their taint." She paused just briefly to let that sink in. "As those first Grey Wardens did before us, as I did before you, you now will do the same. Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. That is why I can sense the darkspawn, and that was why I was able to kill the archdemon."

She waited, but the three men kept silent. "Let us begin, then." Closing her eyes, she repeated the words Alistair had said the day of her Joining. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you." She opened her eyes and lifted the goblet. "Kyran, step forward."

He hesitated only a moment before taking the goblet and raising it to his lips. It was at that moment that Jessimyn realized she didn't actually know what it would look like if he passed. She had seen Daveth die, but she had no idea what she had looked like upon surviving the ceremony. After Kyran drank the blood, she took the goblet back into her hands, and they all watched him closely. His eyes rolled up into his head, and then he collapsed to the ground.

Was he dead? She couldn't tell. It looked like he was still breathing, and she had remembered Daveth looking like he was in a great deal more pain. Maker, why hadn't she waited to do this when there were others around who knew what they were doing? Why hadn't she asked Alistair what to expect? But she realized she had to go on. If Kyran was dead, then he was dead. If he was alive, she would know soon.

"Theon, step forward."

"Is he..." muttered Theon, looking at the fallen mage.

Jessimyn made no answer but held out the goblet to him. Theon drew in a breath, then accepted the goblet and drank from it. His eyes rolled back, too, but it was different this time. He choked and gasped and clawed at his throat before falling next to Kyran.

Jessimyn took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am sorry, Theon," she said before turning her eyes to Jakob. "Step forward Jakob."

"Oh, Maker," he moaned. "Is he... are they..."

She held the goblet to him. "There is no turning back."

Jakob nodded, though he was clearly shaken. He took the goblet and lifted it to his mouth. He passed it back to her, eyes wide. Then his eyes rolled back, and he too fell to the ground. Jessimyn shakily set the goblet down before pressing her hands to her eyes. It was done. There would be two new Grey Wardens in Ferelden.

She knelt next to Theon's body, checking for a pulse just in case she was mistaken, but there was none. "I'm so sorry, Theon. Know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten," she whispered.

It was only a few minutes before the other two came around, but it seemed like an eternity. When they sat up, they appeared dazed. Kyran looked around and gasped at seeing Theon still on the ground. "Theon," he said. "Oh... no."

Jakob gave his head a shake and turned to Jessimyn. "You... didn't tell us. Why didn't you tell us that's what it would be like? Why didn't you..." He trailed off, looking down at the knight who would never rise again.

"I... could not," said Jessimyn, finding her voice. "This is what it is to be a Grey Warden. There are always sacrifices to be made, and they are rarely easy." She reached into her pack to retrieve the pendants hidden there. It had been easy enough to find a smith in Orzammar who could replicate the one she wore around her own neck, but it saddened her that she would only need two of the three she had made. "In each of these there is a drop of the blood you both consumed. All Grey Wardens wear these, as a reminder not only of what we have to face, but to remember those who have fallen."

Jakob and Kyran took the pendants, though both seemed hesitant to put them on. Jessimyn went back to Theon's body, and Kyran followed her.

"Should we... make a pyre?" He asked as he glanced around. "But there's not really any wood down here."

"You have magic," said Jakob as he joined them. "We can't just leave him here."

Between the three of them, they were able to move a bunch of large, flat stones to form a sort of table. They found whatever scraps of wood they could find and placed it on top before carefully placing Theon onto his makeshift pyre. They moved back, and the two men looked to Jessimyn.

She found herself wishing just then that she was a religious woman. Leliana would have known what to say, but Jessimyn felt herself at a loss. "Theon," she began. "Your time came too early, and so you go on before us. Know that your sacrifice was not in vain, and that we do our duties as Grey Wardens so that we are worthy of your sacrifice. May the Maker watch over you."

Kyran raised his hand slightly, and the pyre began to burn. The three Grey Wardens stood there for a long time before finally turning away and moving back to their campsite. Kyran stood over Theon's bedroll. "I guess... we go back now?"

"Yes," said Jessimyn, trying to keep a steady voice. "Theon's journey has ended, but ours has not. Come. There is still much we have to do."


	11. Zevran Chapter 11

_Author's note: As of this chapter, the rating on this story has been raised to M. Enjoy._

~***~

While Jessimyn and her playthings were gone, Zevran found himself feeling very bored. Leliana busied herself with flitting about, trying to discover what was going on in the palace, but Zevran cared little for these dwarves and their politics. He was glad Jessimyn had said she wouldn't get involved, but he wondered if that would still be the case if Leliana found some damning evidence to indicate who had done the poisoning. Luckily for him, the dwarves seemed even more suspicious of outsiders than they had when they'd been in Orzammar before, and few people would talk to a human. Most evenings Leliana returned to the tavern more frustrated than when she left.

"Zev," she had whined to him one night. "Maybe if you tried, too, you could discover something."

He'd been trying to finish a foul-tasting brew when she'd accosted him. "My dear Leliana," he'd said. "If they won't talk to a human, they surely won't talk to an elf. Best you just leave it alone. Now be a good girl and come sit on my lap."

No matter how hard he tried, Leliana refused to get drunk with him. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but he was bored, and even if the dwarves would talk to him, he found none of them worthy of his time. He'd liked Oghren well enough, but these Orzammar residents were much too uptight and secretive. But what else could he do except wait for Jessimyn and her little band to return.

It was almost exactly a week after they'd left that they did return. Zevran had been sitting in the tavern, as was usual, and Leliana was off, Maker knew where, trying to piss off every dwarf in the whole place. He'd overheard plenty of comments from the other patrons about the annoying human who couldn't keep her nose where it belonged. He heard a commotion coming from outside, and he'd gone with the half the tavern to see what was going on.

"It's the Grey Warden," he heard someone say, and it was then that he caught sight of her. He frowned when he spotted Jakob. Too bad the man had survived... but wait. There was someone missing. Theon wasn't with them. He sighed and moved through the little crowd, trying to get closer. Jessimyn had already passed the tavern, on her way to the inn, but he could tell by the slump of her shoulders that it would not be a joyous homecoming. She had known she wouldn't be bringing everyone back with her, but Zevran supposed that didn't make things any easier on her.

And why did it have to be Theon? Zevran had liked the man, and he was sure Jessimyn had, too. The knight had actually reminded him a bit of Alistair... without all of the annoying attempts at humor, of course. At least the other two were still with her.

Zevran shoved his way past the last few people, eliciting a few harsh words from the dwarves who were blocking his path, but he didn't care. When he got to the inn, the group was nowhere to be seen, so he went up to Jessimyn's room and knocked. When she opened the door, she seemed surprised to see him.

"Oh, it's you," she said.

Zevran gave a quirk of his lips. "You do know how to make a man feel missed. Were you expecting someone else, perhaps?"

She walked back inside, and Zevran followed her. "I'd asked them to bring up a tub and some water, actually. I want to bathe and eat, and then I want to leave."

"So soon?" Zevran teased. "But I was just starting to like it here."

Jessimyn was saved the need to respond when there was another knock at the door. Two dwarven men hauled in a large, copper tub, and they were followed by a string of servants carrying buckets of hot water. The tub was filled quickly, and Zevran was once again alone with Jessimyn.

"I guess I should leave you to it, then," said Zevran, starting towards the door.

"You don't... you don't have to," said Jessimyn. When Zevran's eyebrows shot up, she added quickly, "I'm not inviting you to join me, and I'm going to put up this screen between us, but if you wanted to stay and... talk..."

Now that was strange. Jessimyn never offered to talk about things. He'd always had to drag everything out of her. He pulled up a chair and sat down with his feet propped up. "Of course, but I do hope this 'talking' involves you describing everything you're doing that I can't see."

Laughing softly, Jessimyn dragged the privacy screen in front of the tub, and in a few moments Zevran heard the soft splash of water as she climbed in. "So how bad was it? How are you handling it?" Zevran asked, and there was a long pause.

"Worse than I expected," came Jessimyn's voice from behind the screen, and Zevran was surprised at the amount of misery he heard there. "I knew what would happen, what could happen, yet I stupidly hoped that everyone would come out okay. I don't know how Duncan managed doing this all the time. I don't know how I'm going to manage going through all of this again in the future. I just wish..."

Zevran waited, hearing only little splashes for a while. "You wish...?" He prompted.

There was a long sigh. "I wish there was someone here who really understood. Don't get me wrong, I think you're wonderful, Zev. But as a Grey Warden, I feel very alone. From here, we head to Weisshaupt, and that has me terrified. I'm still new to all of this, really, and all I really know about the Grey Wardens, outside of the stories, is what Alistair has told me. And with all of this, with everything else I have to worry about, I can't help counting down the days. He'll be married in a little over two weeks."

With a growl, Zevran stood up and walked over, knocking the screen out of its place. Jessimyn shrieked and lowered herself into the soapy water, which in Zevran's mind did too good a job of obscuring his view. He knelt down beside her. "You've got to stop this. You are stronger than this. You are better than this. When are you going to realize that that part of your life is done? Alistair is not here anymore. Yes, he's going to be married. He's the king now, and he's going to have a queen, and it's not going to be you. But you're still a Grey Warden. You're still you. So stop moping like some lovesick little girl."

She pursed her lips. "I'm not moping, Zev. I'm... mourning." She reached up to rub her eyes with her soapy hands. "I'm mourning the life that hasn't turned out at all like I expected it to. Every time I find myself hoping for something... why are you smiling at me?"

Zevran chuckled. "No, it's not... it's just because you have soapy bubbles on your face." He reached up to wipe her cheek, letting his hand linger. "You must know by now there's no use in wishing for things. Mourning what could have been only means you miss out on the life that is."

"Maybe I'm not as strong as everyone thinks," Jessimyn said stubbornly. "Maybe I just hide it really well. And maybe I shouldn't have said anything to you in the first place. It's times like this that I miss..."

Zevran drew back, scowling. "Yes. Alistair again."

A slight smile graced Jessimyn's lips. "Actually, I was going to say Wynne. I think she was the only person who really knew how scared I was." She shook her head. "But it doesn't matter. You're right. I need to stop being so weak. Now, then. I suppose you should leave, so I can finish and get dressed. I'm starving."

Zevran smiled. "I never said you were weak, my dear. Perhaps you are just... tense? Yes, I'm sure your excursion has left you all wound up." He lowered his hand into the water until his fingers just touched her knee.

"Zev..." Jessimyn protested.

"Now, now. You invite me into your room, where you are completely naked, and you expect me to keep my hands to myself?" His fingers trailed ever so slowly up her thigh, but Jessimyn reached down and grabbed his wrist.

"Zevran!" Her voice was more forceful this time.

"You give yourself to that fool Teagan, yet I cannot even touch you? We are friends, are we not? Friends do make the best lovers, you know. No embarrassing flirtations, no awkward mornings after, and best of all, no expectations. As I said, you seem tense. Let me help relieve some of that tension."

Jessimyn lowered down even further into the tub, but her grip on his wrist loosened. He slid his hand the rest of the way up her thigh, watching her face to see if she was going to stop him again. When she made no move to do so, he ran the tips of his fingers over her, and he smiled as he saw her twitch. In a quick motion, he slid his fingers inside her, and Jessimyn let out a gasp. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back as Zevran slowly moved his fingers in and out, using his thumb to make circles over the tight little knot between her thighs where he knew all woman loved to be touched. He began thrusting his fingers into her faster and faster, and she brought her hips up to meet him.

"Oh, Maker," she gasped as she reached to clutch at the edges of the tub, and Zevran watched as her climax took her.

When she had calmed, Zevran withdrew his hand and leaned forward so his mouth was right next to her ear. "If that's what I can do with my hand," he whispered. "Just imagine what I can do with the rest of me. Next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth." Her soft moan pleased him greatly and he stood up. "Now then," he said, a wide grin on his face. "You must be hungry, so I'll see to that, and I'll let you finish your bath in peace." Without waiting for a reply, he left her room.

Zevran made his way back down to the common room of the inn. He was asking for food to be made and served to them in the private dining room when Leliana rushed in.

"Have you heard? Are they back?" She looked around. "Where are they?"

"They are freshening up, I believe. We'll have dinner in the private dining room tonight, then I expect that we'll be leaving in the morning."

"But..." Leliana pouted. "I'm so close. I've heard some very interesting rumors..."

"Theon didn't make it," Zevran said bluntly, and Leliana's eyes widened. "I don't think the others are taking it well, probably Jess worst of all." He pitched his voice low. "The last thing she needs to hear is your ideas about the poisoning of a king she cares nothing about. Just let it be. She'll be leaving in the morning no matter what you've found out, so if you want to be with her when she goes, just let it be."

"Fine," she said sulkily as she followed him into the dining room, but when Zevran turned to look at her again, she had a mischievous look in her eye. "But do tell me, Zevran. Why is your sleeve all wet?"


	12. Jessimyn Chapter 12

True to her word, Jessimyn's group left Orzammar the morning after they returned to the Deep Roads. She had been very relieved when Zevran had made no attempt to join her in her room later that night, nor did he press her into anything while they traveled. In fact, he acted no differently towards her than he otherwise would have, meaning he still teased her and threw in the random innuendo, but he did those things with everyone else, too. In fact, the trip from Orzammar to Jader was relatively easy going, if not somber.

Every night she would pull Jakob and Kyran aside and teach them what little she could about the Grey Wardens. She told them the things she had had to stumble upon in her first year as a Warden, from the short lifespans to the nightmares to the hows of killing an archdemon. That last discussion had been hard, as the two men had lots of questions, first and foremost was how she herself had killed the archdemon but yet lived. Their questions were good for her, though, as she knew she would be facing similar ones once they reached Weisshaupt.

The trip across the Waking Sea took them to Cumberland, but it was a few days out of that city when the first real argument occurred. They had made camp for the night just south of a major crossroads. The Imperial Highway forked, with one road leading north through Nevarra, while the other went west into Orlais. It was there that Leliana had been planning on leaving them, to go to Val Royeaux, and that plan hadn't changed. However, Kyran and Jakob now both wanted to go with her.

"But when will we ever get a chance to see Val Royeaux again?" Jakob pleaded. "Can't we just make a quick side trip and then be on our way?"

"Quick side trip?" Jessimyn huffed. "That will add at least two months to our journey, if not more. It's not like we could just go there, see it, then turn around and be off again within a day. No, we have to press on to Weisshaupt. We've delayed enough already."

"But it's just _you_ who has to go to Weisshaupt, right?" Kyran asked quietly. "Jakob and I don't really need to be there, do we? And Leliana has already said she plans on going back to Denerim after a short visit to Val Royeaux. Jakob and I could accompany her on the return trip. We'd likely make it back to Denerim before you do. The Blight just ended, and the last one was hundreds of years ago. I think we'll be safe for the next few months."

"But..." Jessimyn shook her head. "I'm responsible for you two. And it could be a year or more before I return..."

"Well, see?" Jakob seemed almost triumphant. "That would be a long time to have _no_ Grey Wardens in Ferelden. If we go with Leliana, we'll be back much sooner than that."

Jessimyn frowned. What could she say to that? Yes, she had made them Grey Wardens, but did that mean she was their leader? Did that mean she could order them to do something they didn't want to do? Duncan had been able to give her orders, but that was during a battle, in a time of war. Maker, but there was so much she didn't know about the Grey Wardens. It had been easier with Alistair, since he had been so willing to let her lead, and he'd just done whatever she suggested. Kyran and Jakob both had minds of their own. Well, that was good, wasn't it? She _did_ want recruits who could think for themselves. She had just hoped their thinking would align with her own.

Suddenly, a flash of anger went through her. She had risked much for them, they had watched Theon die, and now they were just going to abandon her? Did they think she had taken them from the Circle Tower to enjoy a life of pleasure?

"No," she said firmly, and when they both began to object again, she began shouting. "You will do what I say, when I say! We are going to Weisshaupt. Do you think this is a game? A party? You are Grey Wardens now, and your lives are no longer your own. Do you think I _care_ if you want to go see Val Royeaux? Do you think Theon died so that the two of you can go sightseeing? I don't want to hear your complaints about 'missing out.' Do you have any idea the things that _I've_ had to give up?! You can't even begin to imagine. I had to witness the murders of my entire family, and when all I wanted to do was mourn for them, I could not because my duty to the Grey Wardens was greater than that, greater than me. The time for being selfish is past, so don't argue with me about what you _want_ to do because I don't give a shit!"

Everyone was silent, and no one would meet her eyes. Jessimyn took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "We are going to Weisshaupt," she said through clenched teeth, her voice at a more normal level. "There are Grey Wardens there with much more experience than me. If we have to stay there for a month or a year, it will not be wasted because you will both train and learn. _We_ are Ferelden's Grey Wardens, and it will be up to us to rebuild the order."

"Jessimyn..." Kyran said, his voice soft. "We didn't know... we didn't..."

"No," she said in a clipped voice. "You _didn't_ know. There's a lot you don't know, in fact. But know this – I will do everything in my power to promote and further the cause of the Grey Wardens. It is no less than I expect from you. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ser," said Jakob, clearly humbled. Kyran could only nod.

"Good. Then go get some sleep. I'm taking first watch."

Jessimyn watched as the two new Wardens slunk off to their tents, like dogs with their tails between their legs. She could feel Leliana's and Zevran's eyes on her, but she was beyond caring at that moment. Turning on her heel, Jessimyn stalked away to make a circuit of the camp. She heard a noise and turned to notice Leliana walking up to her.

"Jess, you didn't have to be so hard on them," said the bard.

"Didn't I?" She asked sourly. "I will not be questioned by them, nor will I be made to feel like I'm being unfair." She took a steadying breath. "I've given up everything. No one understands sacrifice like I do. So you'll have to forgive me if I don't feel sorry for them because the little boys didn't get to go with a pretty lady to an exciting, foreign city when they have duties to attend to."

A hurt look passed over Leliana's face. "Jess..."

The Grey Warden sighed. "I'm sorry, Leliana. I know this isn't your fault. I can understand wanting nothing more than to disappear with you over the horizon." She reached for her friend's hand and gave it a squeeze. "But I cannot, and they cannot either."

Leliana gave Jessimyn's hand a return squeeze. "I understand." She grinned. "Perhaps I am just too good a storyteller, yes? They could not help but want to see the places I've told them about."

"No doubt," said Jessimyn, her anger easing away. "What man could help but be entranced by your tales?"

"I do have that effect on men," Leliana agreed. "And on quite a few women, too." With a wink, she turned and went back to camp.

It was nearly the end of her turn at watch when Jessimyn heard a small noise. She'd been sitting a little ways off from the campsite, on a fallen log atop a small hill that gave her a good view of the tents. She cocked her head to one side, listening.

"I know you're there, Zevran," she called out.

"Ah, but look how close I got to you before you noticed," came his voice from right next to her, causing Jessimyn to jump. He clicked his tongue. "What if I had been a hurlock?"

She smirked. "Then I would have had more than just my ears to tell me you were nearby."

"Ah, of course," he said, moving to sit next to her. "I'm not sure I've seen you than angry before. I must say, it was a bit of a turn on, and it's much better than seeing you moping."

"Maybe I just want to make sure no one _else_ sees me as weak," she said.

Zevran laughed. "Oh, no worries there, my dear Jessimyn. I think the word they would use to describe you is 'scary'."

With a shrug of her shoulders, Jessimyn said, "Well, I guess that's a start. You're on watch next?" When Zevran nodded, she reached over and patted his knee. "I'm going to bed, then. I'm very tired."

They made it to the crossroads early the next day, and Leliana had taken a long time saying her goodbyes to everyone. She had wanted to talk to everyone in private, and it made Jessimyn impatient as she waited. Finally, Leliana walked over and embraced her.

"I will miss you, my friend," Leliana said softly in Jessimyn's ear. "I hope you will finish your business and return to Denerim quickly. You have to, for I will have all sorts of pretty presents for you from Orlais."

Jessimyn smiled. "Shoes?"

Leliana giggled. "Oh, shoes are just the beginning!" Her face became serious. "I will think of you, while we are apart."

"I'll miss you, too," said Jessimyn, her voice thick with emotion.

Then Leliana was gone. The next few days of traveling were done mostly in silence. Jessimyn hadn't realized just how much Leliana did to keep everyone entertained, and she missed her friend greatly.

Two weeks after they parted ways, Kyran and Jakob finally approached Jessimyn. They'd made their camp for the night, and she'd been warming some water for tea.

"So," said Jakob without any preamble as he sat next to her. "Will you tell us about your family? If you want to, I mean. We're... curious."

Kyran sat on the other side of her. "We... don't really know much about you."

She used her finger to stir the contents of her cup as she pondered where to begin. "There was a man who was jealous of my father, jealous of our family's... land," she began. She told them the story, surprised at the pain she still felt. When she noticed Zevran listening in as well, Jessimyn realized she'd only ever shared the whole story with Alistair. Her other companions at the time knew Rendon Howe had killed her family, but she'd never offered many details. The only thing she left out in this telling was her family's name, simply implying that she had been a noble of some sort.

Later that night, Zevran confronted her about it. "I noticed you didn't tell them you are a Cousland. Any reason? I seem to remember you weren't too happy with Alistair when he finally told you his father was the king."

"Well, maybe I understand his reasoning better now. I want them to follow me because I'm a good leader, because they trust me. I want them to know I give orders because they're for what's best, not because I'm just used to ordering people around."

"Fair enough," said the elf, and he'd left it at that.

The conversation had eased some of the tension between Jessimyn and her recruits, and the next few weeks of traveling had gone easily. When they'd gotten to the river in Nevarra, where Zevran had planned on leaving them to head to Antiva City, he'd informed them that he changed his mind and would continue traveling with them.

"Why the change of heart?" Jessimyn asked, a little suspicious.

He smiled. "Oh, I'm having too much fun. You said you planned on sailing back to Denerim, yes? Well, any ship going back that way will pass right by Antiva City, so if I wish to visit, I can leave you then. Leliana made me promise to see that you make it to Weisshaupt without killing anyone, well anyone who deserves it anyway, so I suppose I should see that through. Besides," he said, grinning at her. "I believe I made you a promise that I haven't yet been able to fulfill."

"You're free to do as you wish, Zev, but I'm always glad for your company," she said, feeling a little irritated that Leliana had asked such a thing of Zevran.

"It is decided, then," he said with a nod.

The months seemed to drag out as they traveled. The land was harsh and foreign to them, and they passed few cities. It was early one evening, some eight months after Jessimyn had left Denerim, when they caught the glimmer of the city in the distance.

"There it is," she stated. "Weisshaupt Fortress."

They'd made it.

So why did she feel more nervous than ever?


	13. Alistair Chapter 13

The night was cool, and there was the faint sound of crickets coming from the garden below. Alistair stood on the balcony outside his bed chamber, a half-finished glass of wine sitting on the railing next to him. He was stalling, and he knew it. He'd been married for four months now, and this part never got easier, it seemed. He took a deep breath, downed the last of his drink, and went inside. Kicking off his slippers, Alistair moved to the small door at the back of the room. The king and queen had separate bedrooms, but there was a hallway that connected the two to allow for private passage between them.

The hallway was dark, as the only light came from the open doorway behind him. Alistair knocked on the door before opening it and entering the queen's bedchamber. Lyrina was sitting on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair. According to the usual method he seemed to follow, this was the part when he would tell himself he wouldn't think of Jessimyn, which of course brought her to the forefront of his mind. There was never any speaking beforehand, which made Alistair uncomfortable. But he never knew what to say. It just seemed so wrong to try to make a joke, but anything serious would sound forced. He tried to tell himself that Lyrina was probably as uncomfortable as he was, but that didn't make anything any better.

As he shut the door behind him, Lyrina set down the hairbrush and stood up. They stood looking at each other for just a moment before he turned his head, looking away. Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair saw Lyrina lift her nightgown over her head. She moved to the bed, lying down on her back. At least he didn't blush profusely anymore as he looked at her. Alistair removed his nightshirt and climbed up next to her. She reached over to extinguish the lantern beside the bed as she spread her legs open for him. He always cringed at that, feeling that simple movement made everything they did so crude. Alistair let his eyes roam over her body as he moved on top of her. He did his best to let his body take over, tried not to think too much about the awkwardness that he felt, tried not to compare the hollowness he felt to the warmth he'd once had with Jessimyn.

Lyrina didn't like him to touch her anymore than was necessary. They rarely kissed, and whenever he tried to embrace her, she would swat him away. Alistair hated feeling like this act, one he'd once been told was the most sacred and intimate of anything he could do with another person, was only being done out of a sense of duty. In fact, after their wedding night, she'd come to him with a calendar, showing him the ten days out of each month when they would most likely conceive. It would then be on those days that he could join her in her bedchamber, she told him. Lyrina had been very shy about it, but Alistair couldn't help but feel like they were making a business arrangement.

It always seemed to take a while before he was aroused enough to enter her, but it was all over quickly enough once he got started, and Alistair rolled off to lie beside his wife. No matter how much he wanted to bolt from her bedroom at that point, he waited. It was only after their coupling that it seemed they ever talked. Knowing that he should be taking advantage of these moments to get to know Lyrina better didn't alleviate the guilt he felt. How long would it take before he'd stop feeling like he was betraying Jessimyn by sleeping with his own wife?

"Alistair?"

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering..." She paused. Alistair had learned already that the longer her pause was, the greater would be the request she would make. It troubled him to think that she felt she could only ask something of him after they'd been together, but he couldn't find a gentle way to tell her that was not so. He rolled over onto his side to face her, pulling a blanket over him to cover his nakedness. She'd already covered herself but was looking up at the ceiling, and he tentatively reached out and touched her arm.

"What is it?" He prompted.

She turned to face him, and Alistair couldn't help but wonder if she moved simply to break contact with him. "My cousin Jenya's wedding is in two months, and I was wondering if we could... I know it's a bit of a trip, but..."

"Of course we can go," said the king. "I don't think it's a wedding we could miss, even if we _didn't_ want to go." They'd found out about the wedding only a few days earlier, and this night was the first they'd been together since. "Even if Jenya wasn't your cousin, she's marrying Teyrn Cousland, and I think it would cause some sort of scandal if we weren't there. Besides, Fergus has always been a friend to me."

What he didn't say, of course, was that he felt a wild thrill at being in the place where Jessimyn had grown up. Alistair knew she wouldn't be there, knew that she likely didn't even know her brother would be getting married, but that didn't affect his irrational excitement. It was almost as if he had some crazy, self-destructive wish to do everything he could to keep her in his mind, no matter how much he knew he needed to forget her, needed to move on.

"Oh, good," Lyrina said, smiling. "We'll need to leave in just a few weeks, then. I'll have to meet with the seamstresses tomorrow, I suppose. I'll need all new dresses to bring with us. I think..." She prattled on for a while, talking about what she would wear, what jewelry she should bring, who else would be there. Alistair found it hard to pay attention, but he tried. He once again reached out to touch her arm, and this time she didn't pull away. Then something she said caught his attention.

"...Nyessa to do it."

Alistair knew Nyessa was Lyrina's younger sister, one she didn't seem to particularly care for. "You never talk about your sister much," he said cautiously. "Were you not close?"

She was silent for a very long time, and he watched a range of emotions flicker across her face. "No," she finally said. "We were not close." Again she paused, and Alistair waited. "We never got along. She was... awful to me, really. When we were younger, I guess there was always a rivalry between us. Our brothers were older and always busy doing... 'grownup boy things' is what we called it. So it was really just Nyessa and me. Whenever one of us did something, the other had to do it better. I think she was jealous of me because I'm..." she trailed off, blushing.

Alistair touched her cheek. "Pretty?"

Lyrina smiled shyly. "I don't mean to be vain, but yes. Not that Nyessa is ugly at all. You've seen her. She's just..."

"Plain?" Alistair provided.

"I suppose that would be the word for it, yes. Well, there was one day Teyrn Loghain was coming to visit us, and he was bringing Anora with him. I was probably eleven at the time, and Nyessa was nearly ten. Anora must have been at least sixteen or seventeen, and we both thought she was a beautiful princess that we had to impress. I remember Mother spent hours having our hair curled just right. When they arrived, Father introduced them to everyone. They were shown to their rooms to freshen up, but Nyessa and I trailed after Anora like two little puppy dogs. She didn't know we were there, and we heard her talking to her handmaid about our family. She talked about how our brothers were very handsome, and she thought I was pretty, but Nyessa... well, she said she looked like a toad."

"I take it that didn't go over well?" Alistair asked.

Lyrina shook her head. "Nyessa was furious. So she spent the entire time they were there trying to embarrass me. As if it was my fault, somehow. On the last night they were there, we had a feast for them, and Nyessa and I both had new dresses that had taken weeks to make. We were alone for only a minute, but Nyessa grabbed a bottle of ink and poured it down the front of my dress. My mother came in and saw it and was furious at me. I tried to tell her it wasn't my fault, but she wouldn't believe me, and she punished me by not letting me go to the party. I had to stay in my room the whole night. After they left, it only got worse. As Nyessa got older, she got braver, and the things she would do to me got meaner."

"You never... told anyone?"

With a sigh, Lyrina said, "I did at first, but no one ever believed me. So I stopped trying to make them. I did my best not to draw attention to myself, so that maybe she would leave me alone, but it never seemed to help." Lyrina suddenly smiled. "But I'm the queen now, and she's probably going to be marrying the son of a bann, so I suppose I win in the end."

Alistair winced at that. While he thought the things Lyrina had had to endure were somewhat trivial to what he'd experienced growing up, he'd felt sympathy for her. He didn't like Lyrina feeling like being queen was some sort of prize, though. But then, what did he expect? She didn't love him anymore than he did her. This marriage _was _a business arrangement when it came down to it.

"Yes," said Alistair. "I suppose you do win." He sat up. "I guess I'll go back to my room now, so you can get some sleep." He leaned down to kiss her on the brow and was surprised when she reached out to touch his hand.

"You... don't have to go, if you don't want. You can stay here tonight... if you'd like," said Lyrina, not quite looking at him as she made the offer.

Alistair felt torn. He wanted nothing more than to be away, to be back in his own room, where he could pour himself another glass of wine, and then probably a few more after that. But at the same time, she'd never offered to let him stay before. "Are you certain?" He asked. "You're going to have a busy day tomorrow, I'm sure. I'd hate to disrupt your sleep."

"That's true," she said quickly, and Alistair almost laughed at how relieved she sounded.

He left her room quietly and went back to his own. He soon found himself back on his balcony, looking down into the garden. His eyes were drawn to the fountain, to the spot where he'd asked Jessimyn for the final time if she would be his wife, the spot where he'd last seen her, last touched her. Now she was probably half the world away, and he had no idea when, or if, he would ever see her again.


	14. Jessimyn Chapter 14

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wanted to thank everyone for the reviews. This chapter took longer than I expected, and took a few rewrites to get it where I was happy with it. Thank you for reading, and I hope you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it._

_~***~_

Jessimyn stood before the large double doors that led into the assembly hall of Weisshaupt Fortress. The guards standing to either side had told her to wait for the summons, and then she could enter. She paced back and forth, trying to remain calm. They'd arrived at Weisshaupt two weeks earlier. She had expected that the generals would want to speak to her right away, once she announced who she was and why she was there, but they had kept her waiting.

Jessimyn hadn't been sure what to expect when they'd arrived at the front gates of Weisshaupt Fortress, but she never would have thought she'd be ignored so completely. Kyran and Jakob had been given bunks in the main Wardens' barracks, but Jessimyn had been shoved into a tiny abandoned building that sat behind the officers' barracks. She'd been told it was the women's quarters, and she wondered when it had last been used. A thick layer of dust covered every surface in the whole building, and it had taken her three days to get everything cleaned up enough for it to be habitable. That had made her angry. Jessimyn Cousland was many things, but she was not a servant. However, her anger only grew as she was made to wait.

They knew who she was. They knew why she was there. Yet they delayed in sending for her. Whenever she had asked, they would assure her that the generals would see her when they were ready. Jessimyn had started to wonder why she had even bothered to make the trip, since it didn't seem like anyone cared how she had defeated the Archdemon. She had been almost ready to leave when they finally informed her they would see her.

Jessimyn could hear the noise coming from behind the doors, and she wondered if everyone in the entire fortress was there. She hadn't seen many people on her way up to the hall, other than the occasional guard who was on duty. Suddenly, all sound from inside the room ceased. Moments later, the doors were thrown open, and she was ushered inside. She walked down a long ramp, that led into a bowl-shaped room. It reminded her of the assembly hall in Orzammar, only larger. Opposite the doors was a long balcony, where five men sat. These were Weisshaupt's Warden Generals. Stretching from the balcony's sides to the doors were rows of benches, from the floor almost up to the ceiling. Jessimyn couldn't believe how many people were crowded into the room. She hadn't know there were that many people in the whole fortress. On her left as she entered, on the benches at the floor level, sat Kyran and Jakob. Zevran, who was not a Grey Warden, had not been allowed to attend. He sat awaiting her in her barracks to hear the outcome of the meeting.

Keeping her head held high, Jessimyn moved into the center of the large room. A quick glance around the hall confirmed that she was the only woman present. There was a low murmur from the crowd until the herald sitting at the side of the front balcony stood.

"The Grey Warden Jessimyn comes before the assembled Warden Generals to present herself for questioning," the herald announced.

The general in the middle began. "How long ago was your Joining, Jessimyn."

"A little over two years ago, ser."

"That would have been around the time of the unfortunate events at Ostagar?"

Jessimyn nodded. "Yes, ser. It was at Ostagar that I went through the Joining."

The general leaned forward. "And how is it that you survived when all of the other Grey Wardens in Ferelden did not?"

"There were two of us who survived," said Jessimyn. "Alistair, the other Grey Warden, is now king of Ferelden. He and I had been given the mission to light a signal fire atop a tower. Our king at the time, King Cailan, was on the field with the Grey Wardens, and after they'd drawn the attacking darkspawn in, they would signal us, and we would light the fire. Then, our waiting armies were to flank the horde. However, the man leading those armies, Teyrn Loghain, betrayed the king and the Grey Wardens, and he abandoned them to their fate. As Alistair and I were not on the field of battle, he and I survived."

"And this Alistair who is now the king of Ferelden, did he go through the Joining at the same time you did?"

"No, ser," said Jessimyn. "His Joining was six months prior to my own."

"So you were the junior member, then?" The general on the far right end asked.

"That is correct," Jessimyn affirmed.

"And were there any other Grey Wardens present when the Archdemon was slain?"

"There was, yes. A man named Riordan, from Orlais. He had been a Grey Warden for nearly thirty years at that point. He said he would be the one to take the final blow, and he managed to injure the Archdemon, but he fell before it died."

Another of the generals asked, "So you state that it was you who killed the Archdemon, then?"

Jessimyn clasped her hands in front of herself. _Here we go_, she thought. "That is correct, ser."

"That's impossible," said the middle general. "The Grey Warden's life is sacrificed when the Archdemon is destroyed. If that is true, how did you cheat death, then?"

She took a deep breath. "It _is_ true, ser. As for cheating death, well... we had a little help." She rolled her shoulders back. "You see, before the final battle with the Archdemon, we first had to build an army. We used the treaties of long ago, in which the elves, dwarves, and mages promised aid to the Grey Wardens in time of need. There was another whose help we required as well, Arl Eamon, a man who had been poisoned and lay on the edge of death. To save him, we had to retrieve the ashes of Andraste."

A murmur ran through the crowd around her, and the generals exchanged looks. "Quiet," one of them demanded. "Quiet!" He peered down at Jessimyn. "And how did you find the Urn, exactly? Many have tried and failed in the past."

Jessimyn quickly recounted the events of finding Brother Genitivi, of his research, and how it led them to the ancient temple in Haven. "So once we had it, we returned to heal the arl. It only took a small amount, though, and we had some left, which we kept with us. When it came time to fight the Archdemon, Alistair and I split what ashes we had, with the plans to use them should either of us be the one to kill it."

"This Riordan didn't take some as well?" A general asked.

Jessimyn shook her head. "Riordan... he had already started having the nightmares again. If he was the one who killed the Archdemon, he did not wish to prevent his death."

There was soft, murmured assent to this from the crowd. "Quiet!" The general in the middle shouted. "So then how did you use these ashes?"

Jessimyn held her hand up, fingers held up to form a cup shape. "As I said, the ashes were kept in a pouch we both wore around our necks. When I drove my sword through the Archdemon's head, I held the pouch up and breathed it in." She lifted her hand to her nose to pantomime breathing in the ashes. "I was unconscious for days afterwards, and no one knew if I would survive, but I eventually... came to."

The generals whispered to each other for a moment, before one asked, "And what do you remember of this time, between when you killed the Archdemon and when you awoke?"

"There was... great pain," said Jessimyn. "When I killed the dragon, I felt this... energy shoot through me. I was told a great beam of light shot up in the air when this happened. I felt... this is hard to explain. Like I was being split in two, almost? Like there was a fight going on inside my body. Then... there were dreams. It reminded me of the dreams I had right after my Joining. They were horrible and frightening, and they seemed to go on forever. When I woke up, I was very weak for days."

There was another whispered conference, then the general sitting in the middle of the row stood up. "We will take a day to discuss what you have told us here. You will present yourself tomorrow at the same time to us in the Generals' Meeting Room, upstairs. Dismissed."

A loud wave of disappointed comments came from the assembled crowd. If she was to meet them in the generals' room, that meant the meeting would be a private one. Jessimyn bowed low and turned, exiting the assembly hall. She hurried away, walking quickly to avoid anyone until she reached the women's quarters. She shut the door behind her and sighed.

Zevran looked up from where he sat on a cot. "It went that well?"

"I don't know," she said. "They want to discuss what I told them, and I'm to meet with them again tomorrow. What is there to discuss? I told them what happened."

"Did you?" Zevran asked, his voice too light.

"What do you mean?" Jessimyn asked, a flutter in her stomach.

"I don't call you a liar, my dear, but... I know we used all the ashes we had in healing Eamon. Now, maybe you had another pouch hidden away somewhere, but..." He shrugged, his eyes on her face.

The night before, he had asked her what she was going to say in the meeting, and she'd told him her story. She didn't know what to say to this accusation he made now, so Jessimyn said nothing.

Zevran moved closer to her. "That bothered me last night, when I heard it. I don't remember any discussion you and Alistair had about using the ashes to save yourselves. And I certainly don't remember either of you being worried, on that trip between Redcliffe and Denerim. You both seemed very secretive, that is certain, but worried? No. And it seems to me that you both would have been very worried, since you wouldn't know if this little trick of yours would work. No, my dear Jessimyn, while I think this story you've told is a good one, I'm not sure I believe it."

Jessimyn straightened, drawing up her full height so that she could look down at Zevran. "I don't care if you believe me."

"That may be," he said with a shrug. "But you may care if these _generals_ don't believe you." When she said nothing, Zevran continued. "Shall I tell you what _I _think happened?"

"Oh please, do enlighten me," said Jessimyn, the bitterness in her voice just barely covering her fear.

Zevran flashed a smile and sat back down. "Let's see. Since you _should_ have died and didn't, you obviously did something to prevent it. And since you didn't seem very worried about it, it must have been something you _knew_ would work. I know of few things that would provide that sort of assurance, so I'm guessing it must have been something involving magic. Neither you nor Alistair seemed terribly surprised when Morrigan left immediately after the battle, so I'm guessing it was something involving her. Am I getting close?"

Jessimyn felt like she'd been plunged under cold water. She sank down on the cot beside him. They'd done everything to keep anyone from finding out what they'd done, and Zevran had just been able to _guess_?

Zevran was grinning widely. "From your reaction, I would say I'm very close indeed. So what did she do? Something I'm willing to bet that Wynne wouldn't have approved of."

"You don't understand, Zev," Jessimyn said, her voice hollow. "We were... one of us would have died. We... I couldn't let him die anymore than he could let me."

"But it could have just as easily have been Riordan."

Jessimyn shook her head. "We couldn't take that chance. And look how it turned out? Riordan fell. It wouldn't have been him. It would have been... me. Do you think Alistair would have let that happen? No, not anymore than I would have let _him_ die." She gave him a miserable look. "Maybe we shouldn't have... maybe I should have sacrificed myself. Sometimes I think it would be easier than being apart from him."

She gasped as Zevran slapped her. She swung back at him, but he easily caught her wrist. "I am not trying to fight, nor am I trying to judge. You did what you had to do, and I can understand that. I just want the truth."

She jerked her wrist out of his grip and stood up. "You have as much truth as you're going to get," she said coldly. "Now I would like you to leave."

The laugh he gave made Jessimyn even more mad. "Ah, my dear. Your anger I can deal with. I've told you how sexy it is, yes? The self pity, though, that I cannot abide."

He left her alone then, and Jessimyn locked herself in the women's barracks for the rest of the night. When morning came, she took her time readying herself for the meeting with the generals. Instead of wearing her armor as she had the previous day, she chose the best dress she had, which was cut lower than she would have liked, but she didn't have many to choose from. She thought that letting them see her as a woman instead of just as a soldier might make her appear more innocent.

Zevran was lounging outside the barracks as she left it, holding an apple in his hands. He offered it to her. "We can't have you skipping meals," he said with a smile. "And what a lovely dress you are wearing. It shows off your bosom quite nicely."

They walked together in silence into the fortress and up the long flight of stairs. Jessimyn felt the eyes of every person they passed, and there was a considerable crowd outside the Generals' Meeting Room. She gave Zevran a nervous smile before entering. The meeting room was much smaller than the assembly hall, but it was just as cold. There were five seats at the far end of the room, all in a row, and there was a very uncomfortable-looking chair sitting in the center of the room, facing them. She stood next to the chair and waited. A door at the back of the room opened, and the generals entered, sitting in the same order they'd sat in at the assembly hall.

"Have a seat," said the general in the middle. Once she was seated, he continued. "We have discussed the things you've told us, and we've come to a decision. We feel that tests are necessary. While you are no mage to be turned into an abomination, we cannot be sure that there isn't some essence of this Archdemon still inside you. You will undergo a number of tests before we can determine if it is safe to allow you live."

Jessimyn's eyes widened, and she sputtered, "But..."

"You will be silent," the general said sternly. "We know you have two other new Grey Wardens from Ferelden with you. They will be sent back to Ferelden, along with ten senior Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt, where they can begin rebuilding the numbers there. If we find you are not a threat to anyone, you may follow them there, though it will likely be a time before that will happen. We will give you today to say your goodbyes, and then tomorrow morning you are to report to Henri, the Mage Commander. From then on, you will remain in the fortress, and you will have no interactions with anyone besides those doing your testing. Is that clear, Warden?"

Jessimyn nodded, the shock she felt dulling her senses.

"You are dismissed then." With no further words, they stood and exited the room, leaving Jessimyn the only choice of doing the same.

When she went through the doors, the conversation around her ceased. She put her head down and hurried away, though Zevran was immediately at her side.

"That was quick," he said. "Good or bad?"

"Zev, I'm going to my barracks. Can you find Kyran and Jakob and meet me there as soon as you can?"

He gave her a worried look. "Did they not believe you?" He asked, his voice pitched low so only she could hear.

"Oh... I think they did," she said. "Please, find them. And hurry."

Without another word, he left her, and she made her way back to the women's quarters. Questions were thrown at her as she went, but she ignored them all. Her mind was a blur. What sorts of tests would they be performing on her? Magical tests, it was obvious, but what kinds? She shivered involuntarily.

Jessimyn had only been back in the barracks a few minutes before her three companions came rushing in.

"What is it, what's going on?" Kyran asked. "Zevran here acted like you were under attack or something."

"That may not be far from the truth," she said. "I... it looks like you both will be going back to Denerim soon. The generals are going to send you with ten older Grey Wardens, with the task of finding more to Join in Denerim. I'm not sure when you'll go, but I imagine it will be soon."

"_They'll_ go?" Zevran asked. "But what about you?"

"I..." She sat down. "I will be staying here. They said... they said they need to know if I'm a threat, if I still have some part of the Archdemon inside me. If they find I do not, they'll let me leave."

"And... if they find that you do?" Jakob asked bluntly.

"I take it that they'll kill me," said Jessimyn, her voice flat.

There was silence at that. Jakob and Kyran looked nervously at each other, and Zevran moved to sit next to Jessimyn. "Please, just go," she said softly. "Let's not have any awkward goodbyes. I'm sure I will see you all again very soon."

Jakob nodded, and Kyran bowed to her before they both left, but Zevran didn't move. "They won't find anything," he said once the other two were gone. "There's nothing to find, we both know this."

"It doesn't mean I'm going to like whatever these tests might be, nor do I know how long they'll keep me before they decide I'm not some... half-demon. Zev..." She looked at him. "I think you should go, too. They said I won't be able to see anyone while I'm... and there's no reason for you to stick around here. Go to Antiva City as you had planned. If... when I leave here, I'll take a ship from Minrathous. I'll stop in Antiva City and put it around that I'm a Grey Warden. I'm sure you'll have ears about, so you come find me when I get there."

"I could get you out of her tonight," he said, but Jessimyn shook her head.

"_Family. Duty. Honor,_" she said. At Zevran's confused look, she expounded. "The Cousland motto. Well, the Grey Wardens are my family now, and my duty is to do as they command. I must stay, for however long they want me to stay."

"I don't like it," Zevran said darkly.

Jessimyn's smile was wry. "Nor do I."

Zevran scowled and stood, but Jessimyn reached for his hand. "I... don't want to be alone tonight. I was hoping you might stay."

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile. "I had already planned on it. But first I will go fetch you some food. You've barely eaten anything the past few days, and if you're going to pass out on me, I prefer that it's not due to starvation."

She laughed as he left, but once he was gone Jessimyn wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very alone. "Oh, Alistair," she whispered as she lay down on the cot, curling her legs up into a ball. "What have I done?"


	15. Alistair Chapter 15

They had arrived with their retinue at the gates to Castle Cousland in Highever, and Alistair found himself overcome with nerves. It was silly, and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself, and as they entered the estate, Alistair found himself looking for any signs of Jessimyn. Not that he expected her to be there of course. When he and Lyrina were greeted by Fergus and Jenya, he nearly stopped breathing. They were in the main hall of the castle, and on the back wall stood a large painting of the Cousland family. He had a hard time tearing his eyes away from it. The artist was good, and Jessimyn's likeness was captured well. It had to be a few years old, as she looked a little younger, a little softer, a little more innocent. When Lyrina touched his arm, he jerked.

"...is that fine with you, my lord?"

He had no idea what she'd just asked him, but he just nodded his head. "Of course."

Lyrina and Jenya linked arms and left the hall, leaving Alistair alone with Fergus, whose smile was a little too broad. "You have no idea what she just asked you, do you?"

Alistair started to protest, but then he, too, smiled. "No, no idea. Anything I should be worried about?"

Fergus shook his head. "They just wanted some 'girl time' she said. Probably going to spend hours looking at jewelry and dresses and flowers."

"Ahh..." said Alistair, trying to keep his eyes on the man in front of him.

Fergus seemed to notice his distraction and nodded towards the painting. "She was sixteen when that was done. Sitting for it was an awful experience. Jess has no patience, of course, and she would move every time the painter looked away. Drove the man mad, it did."

Alistair found himself laughing. "That does sound like her."

"Come," said Fergus, beckoning towards the doorway at the end of the hall. "I'm sure you would like to relax a little from your journey. I have a wonderful port from Orlais I think you would like, if you would care to join me for a glass or two."

Alistair agreed and followed the teyrn through the door and down the winding hallways of the estate. Then ended at a hall tucked in the back of the castle, with doors on each side and one at the end.

"These are the family's quarters," Fergus informed him. "It should be quiet enough here, as I'm currently the only person residing here. The room on the end was my parents'. I suppose it should be mine now, but..." He shrugged, then pointed to their left. "That's Jess' room. Mine is this way," he said, opening the door on the right side of the hallway.

The sitting room was very large, and the hearth at the end blazed brightly. There were doors on both sides of the room, and as they entered, a man came out of the one on the right.

"Ah, Daynin. The king and I would have a glass of the Orlesian port."

"Of course, Your Grace," said the man as he bowed to them both.

Fergus and Alistair seated themselves in two of the thick, cushioned chairs before the fire, and Daynin brought them their glasses. "Your Majesty," he murmured to Alistair before moving to Fergus. "Your Grace." He then disappeared back through the door.

They chatted about a number of inconsequential things for a while. Alistair found himself trying to work up the nerve to ask Fergus for a favor. It bothered him that he was intimidated by this man, though he could understand why. Not only was Fergus the older brother of Jessimyn, not only did he know that the king was in love with his sister and not the queen, but he was a high-ranking noble. He oozed nobility, where Alistair seemed to stumble through it. Fergus was never openly condescending to him, but Alistair sometimes felt like Fergus looked at him like a new colt trying to find its legs.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Alistair took a deep breath and said, "Fergus, I have something to ask of you. A favor, of sorts. Something that's almost as much for Jessimyn as it is for me. You see, we were both recruited into the Grey Wardens by the same man. His name was Duncan, and he was killed during the battle at Ostagar. I know he was from Highever, and I want to have a monument built in his honor here. Nothing elaborate, of course, but something more humble, something private for those of us who knew him to honor his memory. I do not know the area well, and I was wondering if you had suggestions for a place for it. Something out of the way, but easy enough to get to."

Fergus pondered this for a moment before speaking. "North of here, there are some bluffs overlooking the sea. They're Cousland land, but you may build your monument there, if you wish. I met this Duncan briefly, the day I left, the day... well, I know he is the reason my sister is still alive. I owe him much, for doing what he did to protect her. Do you know what sort of monument you would like built? I know of some stone carvers in Highever whose work is quite good. Perhaps we can go out to the bluffs tomorrow, if you would like, to look at it. It's quite a lovely place, really."

"Yes, that would be nice," said Alistair, feeling a little relieved.

With a grin, Fergus said, "I could use the excuse to get out of the castle for a while. All this wedding talk bores me, yet that seems to be all anyone ever wants to talk about these days, for some strange reason."

Alistair laughed. "Yes, we can leave the women to it, at least for the day." He sipped his wine. "Have you known Jenya long?"

Fergus shook his head. "No, we'd only met a few times before we became engaged. Her family is from West Hill, where her father is the arl there. He was a friend and ally to my father, though."

Just then there was a knock at the door. Daynin seemed to materialize out of nowhere and went to answer it. He spoke softly to the person there, then turned to Fergus. "Your Grace," he said. "There is a guardsman here who has a message for you."

Fergus gave an elaborate sigh and stood. "If you would excuse me for but a moment, Your Majesty?"

When Alistair nodded, he went out the door. Daynin had already disappeared back through the side door, and the king found himself alone in Fergus' sitting room. Minutes passed, and when Fergus did not return, Alistair stood and walked slowly around the room, looking at the art on the walls. There were a number of small paintings, as well as gilded vases filled with fresh flowers. However, it was what he saw on a shelf near the hearth that caught his attention. There was a set of miniatures, carved to look like the members of the Cousland family. From what he remembered of the painting he'd seen, the miniatures of the parents were a good likeness, as was the one made to resemble Fergus. There were two others, which Alistair assumed were of Fergus' late wife and son. However, it was the miniature of Jessimyn that he picked up. Alistair rolled it over in his hand, examining it.

It was of her from probably around the same time as the painting, as she appeared much like he remembered her, though perhaps just a bit younger. It was made out of a white marble, obviously done by a skilled carver, as the thing was no longer than his finger, yet the resemblance was uncanny. He ran his thumb over the face of the miniature, amazed at how well the carver had captured her smile. When he heard a noise at the door, he unthinkingly shoved the miniature in his pocket and stepped towards his chair.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," said Fergus as he reentered the room and retook his seat. "What we were talking about? Ah yes, Jenya. Her family..." Fergus spoke at length about his soon-to-be wife, but Alistair's attention was elsewhere.

Why had he taken the miniature, he wondered? Why had he put it in his pocket instead of back on the shelf? And how would he manage to replace it without Fergus noticing what he did? But then, Alistair knew that, deep down, he didn't _want_ to return it. He wanted to keep it.

Fergus must have noticed his waning attention, as he said, "You must be getting tired, Your Majesty." When Alistair nodded, he said, "I should let you rest before dinner tonight. Daynin!"

The man once again appeared. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Would you please show His Majesty to his room?"

Daynin bowed, and Alistair rose to follow him, his hand in his pocket gripping the miniature. When he got to his room, Alistair was left alone. They'd moved his stuff as well as Lyrina's into the same room. That would be awkward, he knew, as they had never yet actually slept in the same bed before. He supposed it was time to get used to that, though, as it was what normal married people did, was it not? Or was it, he wondered. After all, the king and queen had their own separate chambers in the palace. Well, for the time they were in Highever, they would have to make do.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the carving of Jessimyn out of his pocket. He held it in his hand, staring at it for a long time.

The next day Alistair and Fergus went to the bluffs, and when they got there, Alistair agreed that it would be the perfect place for Duncan's monument. When they returned to the castle later that day, Fergus said he would send word for one of the better-known stone carvers to meet with him after the wedding was over, which was to take place in two weeks.

Those two weeks went by quickly enough. More and more nobles arrived each day, some of them staying in the palace and some staying with other nearby nobles. Alistair found himself always in the middle of one boring conversation or another, but he excused himself often enough to walk around the grounds. Lyrina went with him on a number of those walks, as she didn't seem very fond of the crowds, either. Alistair wasn't sure if it was because of their shared quarters, but it seemed to get easier for them to talk to each other as the days passed. In fact, there was a night when he had put his arm around her in bed, and she hadn't pulled away, but rather she had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder.

The wedding itself was an elaborate event, though not to be outdone by the feast afterwards. The wine had flowed freely, and Alistair found himself in good spirits after a few glasses. When the music started, he pulled Lyrina out onto the floor to dance, and she, her cheeks pink from the wine she'd been drinking, didn't object. When they made it up to their room later that night, he kissed her, and Lyrina didn't object to that, either.

Hours later, as Lyrina snored softly at his side, Alistair lay staring at the ceiling. Here he was, in Jessimyn's home, and he'd just made love to another woman. True, it was his wife, but he was once again consumed with guilty feelings. He rolled to his side so that his back was to Lyrina and reached into the drawer on the table at the side of the bed. He pulled the miniature from it and ran a finger down its length.

"I'm sorry, Jess," he whispered before placing it back in the drawer.


	16. Jessimyn Chapter 16

Jessimyn hurried down the steps of the fortress and made her way to the women's quarters. It had been over three months since she'd last stepped outside, over three months since she'd been able to do anything without first asking permission. She shuddered, recalling what they'd done to her, the tests they'd run on her to make sure she was whole. She threw her things into her pack and left, without saying a word to anyone. There was no one there to say goodbye to. And as far as Jessimyn was concerned, she never wanted to see Weisshaupt Fortress again.

It was midday, but she set off anyway, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and her torturers, as she'd begun calling them after the first month. They hadn't found that very funny, those Grey Warden mages assigned to her, but then, they hadn't been the ones humiliated by the things they did to her, either. Jessimyn felt dirty, as if her whole body was covered in slime. Yes, best to be away as quickly as possible. She'd been gone from Ferelden for over a year now, and all she wanted was to be back. The trip from Weisshaupt to Minrathous would likely take a month, maybe more, so there was no time to waste.

The first few days of travel had been hard. Jessimyn had to stop frequently to rest, as the terrain was rougher than she was used to, but she built up her stamina as the days passed. However, also hindering her ability to travel very far was that she had to stop early each night to find a safe place to camp. She had no one to keep watch for her, so she spent the time to find a secure place off to the side of the Imperial Highway. By the time Jessimyn finally reached Minrathous, nearly six weeks had passed. After spending a night in an inn, where she was able to take a much-needed bath, she went down to the docks.

"You can't be serious," she said to the dockmaster after she'd asked when the next ship to Antiva City would be leaving.

The man shrugged. "I'm sorry, my lady. If you'd been here five days ago, you could have taken that ship, but as it is, the next one won't be here for another three weeks."

Jessimyn was furious, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She spent the time having a few dresses made. Of the few she'd brought with her, most were so threadbare that she couldn't even wear them anymore. She hated spending the coin on them, but she didn't want to have to be in armor the whole time she was on the ship. When the ship finally arrived, she had rushed down to the docks, only to be told they would need to unload their cargo, which would take most of the day, so it wouldn't leave again until the next morning. When they finally left, Jessimyn felt herself as anxious to get away from Minrathous as she had been to leave Weisshaupt.

The journey to Antiva City took longer than she had expected. The ship, she was told, was not meant for deeper waters, so they stayed close to the southern coast as they sailed across the Nocen Sea. Even when they finally made it into Rialto Bay, they had to take the long way around the northern coast before they finally landed in Antiva City, some four months after they'd left Minrathous and six months after Jessimyn had left Weisshaupt.

As Jessimyn made her way into Antiva City, she was overwhelmed by the size of it. She got a number of strange looks as she wandered the streets, and she realized it was due to the dagger and sword strapped to her back. In this nation, women didn't fight. Jessimyn could clearly recall the disdain with which Oriana had treated her training, claiming it would have been unthinkable in her native Antiva. It was just as well, Jessimyn figured. She hoped it would make her stand out more, make her more worthy of comment so that perhaps Zevran would find her sooner.

Jessimyn found a decent inn near the inner city, away from the docks. The proprietor asked her outright why she was wearing weapons, and if he should be expecting any trouble.

"No, no trouble," she assured him. "I'm a Grey Warden, from Ferelden."

"A woman Warder, you say," said a nearby patron, coming over to them. "Not the one we've all heard about? But you must be. Can't be many women in the Grey Wardens, even in Ferelden."

Well, if Jessimyn had wanted notice, she got it. She was surprised people had heard of her this far north, but it had been over a year and a half since she'd slain the Archdemon. She'd been sitting in the common room, having breakfast on the third day in the city, when Zevran found her.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," he said as he slid into the chair next to her. "I've been here four months already, and I thought maybe you decided to leave old Zevran behind."

Jessimyn threw her arms around him, which seemed to startle the elf, causing him to chuckle. He patted her on the back. "There, there, my dear Jessimyn. You are making a scene. Come, get your things. You needn't stay here any longer."

He urged her up to her room, where she gathered what few possessions she had, and Zevran led her through the city to a large, ornate building. It was five stories high, with an elaborate stone facade. Large red, fringed curtains hung from all the windows, and there were large, red lanterns attached to either side of the huge, carved front doors. It was morning, so they weren't lit, but Jessimyn knew what they meant.

"You bring me to a whorehouse?" She asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Ah, but not just _any _whorehouse, my dear," he said. "This is Madam Watlin's house, the best in the city."

"I'm... not sure I'm up to such activities just now," Jessimyn said, hesitating outside the front door, which just made Zevran laugh.

"This is where I've been staying these months, waiting for you. There's no reason you should spend your coin at an inn when you may stay here as well." He gave her a speculative look. "Unless it is demeaning to do so, for a lady of your standing. I'm sure you could go to the palace and be given a place to stay there, if you wished..."

"Shut up, Zev," she grumbled.

Zevran laughed again and pulled her inside. The front room was quiet, probably as it was so early in the morning, but there were a few women lying about, and they all looked up when the two entered. A plump woman with long, blonde curls sashayed up to them.

"Have you brought me another, Zevran?" She asked, her accent similar to his own. "This one will not do. Pretty enough, but look at the scars," she said as she lifted one of Jessimyn's arms, tracing a finger down a long scar near her elbow.

Jessimyn gave Zevran an amused look, and he let out a loud laugh. "Oh no, my dear Bella. This is my Grey Warden friend I've been telling you about. I doubt even your richest patrons could afford her."

"I'm Jessimyn," said the Warden.

The madam dropped Jessimyn's arm. "Of course, I should have known. You may call me Bella. Glad to finally meet you. We've all heard so much about you, haven't we, girls?" The others in the room seemed to be watching them with interest. "We were quite surprised when Zevran returned to us, but even more surprised when he said he was waiting for someone. Why, we haven't seen him quite so taken with any one person since..."

Zevran snorted, cutting her off. "Lies and slander," he said good-naturedly. "You wish to ruin my reputation? I will get her settled in. Then you two may compare notes, if you wish."

He led Jessimyn to the back of the building, then down a flight of stairs. When Jessimyn seemed to hesitate, he explained, "The girls use the rooms upstairs. These rooms are more private, used for longer stays. This room is mine," he said, gesturing to a door. "You may put your things in the one next door."

He opened the door to the room that would be hers and followed her inside. It was definitely more elaborate than the room Jessimyn had at the inn. A large hearth stood in the corner, though it was cold. A four-poster bed sat in the opposite corner, its thick mattress piled high with quilts and blankets. There was a table with a washbasin sitting atop it, and a long mirror hung from the wall next to it. Between the bed and the fireplace stood a richly carved armoir, and there were a few cushioned chairs scattered near the hearth. Jessimyn dropped her bags near the door.

"Come over to my room," said Zevran. "It's warmer there. I'm sure Bella will be sending someone down to light your fire soon." He grinned. "In the purely literal sense, of course."

Once they were settled in Zevran's room, he gave her a worried look. "Now then," he said. "Tell me why you were delayed. What happened, after we left. You look... pale. And much too skinny. Barely any bosom left at all, and that is a shame."

"I... the trip by ship didn't seem to agree with me," she said. "I was often sick."

"Hmmm..." said Zevran. "That may be, but that doesn't explain your delay. What did they do to you, Jess."

She looked away. "It was... terrible. And humiliating."

Zevran took her hand, and Jessimyn was surprised by the sympathetic look on his face. She sighed. "They... This is difficult for me." She took a few deep breaths, then began her tale. "I don't think they really knew what they were looking for, at first. The first week was nothing but physical examinations. I've never been poked and prodded more in all my life. They were all mages skilled in healing, but you'd think some of them had never seen a woman's body before. There was one mage, Elgen was his name, who seemed to get an erection each time he was in the same room as me."

His hand tightened upon hers. "They didn't..."

Jessimyn shook her head. "It was nothing like that. At least not physically. I feel as though they raped my mind, though. Once the physical tests where over, they moved to the magical ones. Sometimes what they did made me feel nothing, sometimes there was slight discomfort, and sometimes there was intense pain." Her laugh was cold as she continued. "They always apologized for it. As if that would make it any better. I'm no mage, so I can't describe exactly what they did, but... well, you know how it feels to be healed."

Zevran nodded, his eyes widening as she spoke.

"It was... similar to that. Sort of. I could feel these waves of energy passing through me. I think they were searching for something within me. Delving into me, trying to find something there that wasn't supposed to be there. As this continued day after day, I became frightened they were going to keep going _until_ they found something. But finally, over a month after they'd started these examinations, they stopped. Told me they were going to try something different."

The calm look on Zevran's face was one Jessimyn knew well. He was angry. "How long did they have you down there, doing these tests?" He asked.

"Three months. A little longer than three months, I think."

He stood, smashing a fist into one of the hardwood posts of his bed. "I should have stayed. I should have..."

Jessimyn shook her head. "There would have been nothing you could do. I doubt even Alistair could have stopped them," she said. When Zevran gave her a strange look at that, she added, "He _is_ king. He has armies."

Zevran just muttered something and sat back down. "So this magical molestation lasted a month. What were they doing to you for the other two?"

"Asking me questions." At his surprised look, she continued. "That's really all it was, in the beginning. They seemed to want to know of everything that had happened from the moment I became a Grey Warden to the time I killed the Archdemon. It took weeks to go through everything, and they would ask the same questions in many different ways. I don't know if they were trying to catch me in a lie, but I could only sit and answer. When that seemed to get them nowhere, they added magic to the game."

"What do you mean?" Zevran asked with a frown.

"I don't know exactly. I almost wonder if it was some sort of blood magic, like we encountered in the Circle Tower." She frowned. "But... you weren't there for that. I forgot. Apparently blood magic can be used to control another's mind. It wasn't quite so bad as that, but they had ways... of making me tell the truth. I had a little control over what I told them, but not much. They pulled things from my mind that I would never want known. It seemed that the more emotional I am about a subject, the easier it was for them to get me to talk about it."

She looked down at her hands. "They know everything about Alistair, probably down to the number of times we were together." She rubbed her eyes. "They... made me relive everything. It feels like they cut open a wound that was just barely beginning to heal. All the pain of leaving him... it is fresh again in my mind." She looked at Zevran. "And before you slap me again, know that I am not pitying myself. I am simply telling you what happened."

He tsked at her. "I do not fault you for feeling." He stood up, poured them both a glass of some strong, foul-smelling liquor and sat back down. "Here, take this. It tastes better than it smells."

Jessimyn took a sip before continuing. "As for the ashes, well... most of their questions were about how they worked. As I don't know how they work, there was little I could tell them. That part was difficult, though. They had ways of making me tell the truth, and I was very worried I would give myself away. So at night, I would tell myself over and over again that they were asking me about the story I'd told them. I'd kept the story simple, so I only needed to repeat to them what I'd originally said. That seemed to work a little."

"And this secret magic Morrigan performed for you?"

Jessimyn's smile was wry. "They can't ask questions they don't know to ask, now can they?"

"Are you going to tell me about it now?" He leaned in close to her.

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, nor will I ever. Zev, please. I've respected your wishes not to question you about certain things from your past. I'd ask that you do the same for me. Anything else I would do for you, but not this."

"Anything, huh?" He smiled at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

"But now I have questions for you," said Jessimyn. "You said you've been in Antiva City for four months now. Truly, I wasn't sure if you'd even still be here. I was only going to wait a week or two before moving on. How have you managed?"

"You mean why have the Crows not killed me yet?" His eyes twinkled with his question, and Jessimyn laughed.

"Yes, something like that."

He shrugged, though from his face it was apparent he was terribly pleased with himself. "As I've told you before, the Crows will not go after a former member who has attached himself to someone more powerful. They'd known I'd killed Taliesin when I showed up here. Yes, they sent a few assassins after me, but I made short work of them."

"How many?"

Now he grinned outright. "Four at once."

Jessimyn shook her head, smiling. "You truly are the luckiest man I know."

The look he gave her was soft. "Truly." He set his glass aside and took her hands in his. "So now do you wish to travel back to Denerim? I could probably be persuaded to accompany you, if you ask nicely."

Jessimyn hesitated. "I... don't think I'm ready to go back just yet. I..." She looked away. "I think I need some time free from Grey Wardens, at least for a while."

Zevran seemed truly delighted at this. "You wish for a vacation? Well, there's no better place for it than Antiva City."

So she stayed in Antiva City, living in the basement of a whorehouse. They had a few run-ins with the Crows, some who wished to test their mettle against the Grey Warden, but it was always Zevran and Jessimyn who walked away, and it didn't take long before they were left alone completely. Jessimyn's presence at Bella's place seemed to drive business up, and the grateful madam was constantly showering the Grey Warden with gifts of dresses, jewelry, and shoes. More than once, she would tell Jessimyn of someone's request to have her as a partner, which only made her laugh and confirm Zevran's initial assessment, that none of her patrons would ever be able to afford her.

She was amazed at how easy her time alone with Zevran was. Occasionally they were lovers, but usually they were just friends. That friendship helped her to heal from the violations the Wardens in Weisshaupt had committed against her.

It was seven months later, late at night as Jessimyn and Zevran were sitting in the main room of the whorehouse, playing cards with some of the more well-to-do patrons, when the messenger came in. "News for you, my lady," he said, and Jessimyn and Zevran excused themselves.

Jessimyn had asked for any big news from either Denerim or Highever to be brought to her immediately. While she found her desire to return lessening and lessening every day she delayed it, she knew that she would go back if there was a pressing reason. She'd already heard of her brother's wedding, already now over a year past, as well as confirmation that Kyran and Jakob had made it safely back to Denerim, along with their Grey Warden companions.

When they were alone, she nodded to the messenger. "I came as quickly as I heard. Not always easy to find word from Ferelden here, my lady, and this one has just started going around."

"Out with it, boy," said Zevran.

The messenger nodded. "Right. Well, it seems an heir's been born, and..."

Jessimyn heard nothing after that. Her face went slack, and she felt a cold stab in her heart. But what had she expected? Eventually Alistair would have a child, she knew that. She just hadn't expected it to happen so soon. They hadn't even been married two years yet. What if she had been wrong, she wondered. What if they _would_ have been able to conceive, and she'd thrown it all away? She came around as Zevran grabbed her arm, giving her a little shake.

"Come back to us, Jess. You need to listen to all of what the boy has to say."

The messenger looked a little cautious, but he repeated what he'd been saying. "Uh... there's an heir, born in Highever. You said you wanted news from Highever..."

Realization dawned on Jessimyn, and she smiled widely. "Fergus!" She clapped her hands together like a little girl. "_Fergus_ has an heir. Oh, Maker. That's wonderful. They've only been married a year!"

Zevran smiled and shook his head, then dropped a few coins into the messenger's hand, and he quickly scurried away.

"Oh, Zev," she said laughing. "I... I have to go, I have to go see him."

"Yes," he said, his voice even. "I suppose you do at that. It's probably past time that you went back to Ferelden anyway. These past few months have been enjoyable, but we both knew they would come to an end eventually."

"I need to pack," said Jessimyn, her face flushed. "How long do you think it will take to sail to Highever from here? Surely not as long as it took to get here from Minrathous. Should I send word ahead of me? No, better as a surprise, I think. Fergus _hates_ surprises." She giggled, and Zevran had to laugh at that. "You'll come with me, of course, won't you, Zev?"

He paused briefly before shaking his head. "No... I don't think I will."

Jessimyn looked shocked. "What, but... you have to..." Her words came out softly, hollowly.

He smiled and took her hand, walking her down the stairs to their rooms. "I think it is best that I stay here, for now. There would be no place for me at your brother's home, from what you've told me of him, and I like it here. No, you should go, but I should stay." He touched her cheek gently. "Maybe I will follow, after a time, after I'm sure you are back in Denerim, but for now, I can't go with you."

Jessimyn tried to think of an appropriate protest, but she couldn't. After all, who was she to ask him to leave everything he had here, to leave his beloved Antiva City? She sighed. "I... understand. I don't like it, but I understand." She squeezed his hand. "I will miss you..." she began, but he put a finger over her lips.

"Now now, enough time for that later. Come, stay the night with me tonight, and we can discuss arrangements for getting you back to Highever in the morning."


	17. Alistair Chapter 17

Alistair sat on the chair in his private sitting room, his wife's head on his knee. She was upset, and he was trying to comfort her. They'd gotten word of the birth of the new Cousland heir, and while Lyrina was happy for her cousin, it upset her that she still had yet to conceive. Alistair had been surprised by her tears, though he could understand them. They were getting close to two years of marriage, and though they had stuck by her calendar religiously, nothing had yet come of it.

"We must be patient," Alistair said, petting her gently, her tears soaking through the knees of his breeches. "These things take time, and you know it will be even harder than normal for us. But we've only been together for two years. We are both still young, and we have plenty of time."

They'd had this conversation before, but he'd never seen her quite this upset. "We can hardly compare ourselves to them," he added. "Obviously the man is part rabbit. I'm surprised your cousin didn't give birth to an entire litter."

Lyrina laughed and lifted her head up, wiping away her tears. "I just... want to be a good wife, a good queen."

Alistair pulled her to her feet and kissed her forehead. "You _are _a good queen, and a good wife. The best I've ever had, in fact. Once the season turns, we can travel up there to visit them. Would you like that?"

"Oh, can we really?" When Alistair nodded, she gave him a sheepish smile. "I suppose I'm just being silly. Tonight's the Winter Feast, and I should be readying myself for that, but here I am crying to you." She kissed his cheek. "I'm sure my handmaids are looking for me, in fact, probably gossiping about what we're doing in here." She blushed as she kissed his cheek. She walked towards the door to his bedroom, which would lead to the private hallway to her own room, but she paused. "I... heard your bard will be performing tonight. Some have said she has a new song she's written, and tonight will be the first night she sings it."

Alistair did everything in his power not to wince. _His bard_. She'd always referred to Leliana as such, and there was always that hint of jealousy in her voice when she talked about her, though Lyrina would never admit to such. Perhaps the hug he'd given Leliana had been a little too enthusiastic, when she'd shown back up in Denerim a few months before. Perhaps he shouldn't have hugged her at all.

Alistair kept his voice light. "Is that so? I hadn't heard. She's always good entertainment, though. All the nobles seem to love her."

"...Yes, that is true," said Lyrina, and Alistair couldn't read the underlying message in her tone. She then flashed him a smile. "I'll see you tonight before dinner, then," she said, and she was through the door.

Alistair shook his head. It was his own fault, he supposed. He'd just been so happy to see her. When he'd heard that the Grey Wardens had returned to Denerim, he had nearly flown to the compound, only to be shocked that Jessimyn wasn't with them. When the man Jakob, an ex-templar like himself, had told him what had transpired in Weisshaupt, Alistair had flown into a rage. Jessimyn had saved all of Thedas by killing the Archdemon, and they threatened her life because of it? He had wanted to leave right then, to march on Weisshaupt Fortress, but he knew that was crazy. Even if he had been free to do such a thing, by the time he got there, whatever was going to transpire would have done so already. Still, he became more fearful for her safety with every passing day that she did not return.

When Leliana had arrived, he had begged her to try to find out any information she could. Leliana had been more than willing, as she, too, was worried about what might have happened to their friend. However, she'd been able to find nothing, and they had commiserated together over that. So perhaps they had spent too much time, whispering to each other in private, and Lyrina had noticed. She knew they had been traveling companions, and Alistair wondered if she thought they had been more than that. The queen wouldn't bring it up, though, so there was nothing Alistair could do to reassure her Leliana was just a friend. At least, there was no way he could think of that wouldn't end up making him look guilty.

Leliana really was a hit with the nobles, though. Her beauty and talents endeared her to them, or at least to the younger members of the nobility. Some of the older nobles were suspicious of her Orlesian roots, but even many of them had started to come around. She was better than any minstrel in Denerim, and everyone knew it. She was often invited to perform at the parties and feasts held anywhere nearby, and she never turned down an opportunity to perform.

Alistair had only a little time to relax before his men came in to begin readying him for the night's festivities. Lyrina had picked out his clothing, chosen to complement her own, and they were brought out. The black, silk breeches were tighter than he would have liked, yet he couldn't help but vainly admire how his legs looked in them. A loose, white silk shirt was then worn under a dark green doublet of brocaded velvet. The embroidery on the doublet was exquisite, and it had taken over a month to finish, but Lyrina had been very specific in what she wanted. The knee-high boots of a supple leather finished the ensemble, and once he was dressed, he went over to retrieve his queen.

When he saw her, she took his breath away. Her dress was a matching green brocade, with the shoulders cut wide and low to show off just enough. Tiny pearls and embroidery covered the bodice of the dress, and she wore matching pearls around her throat, from her ears, and in her hair.

Alistair went to take her hand. "You are a vision," he breathed into her ear and was rewarded with a satisfied giggle.

"You look quite lovely yourself," she whispered back. "Shall we, then?"

They made their way into the main dining hall, where the feast was to take place. Once they were announced and took their seats, the feast began. The hall was filled with people, arranged according to rank, with those of higher standing closer to the front, closer to the king. At the head table, along with Alistair and Lyrina, sat Eamon and Isolde, along with Lyrina's parents. Where once Alistair had cringed at attending such functions, he soon found he was enjoying himself. There were a number of minstrels about, providing music while the guests ate, but Leliana was not one of them. In fact, she sat at a table near the front of the hall, surrounded by her admirers. She would perform later on in the evening, when she could have everyone's attention.

The feast went on for hours, the different courses brought out at a slow but steady pace, and as Alistair looked around, he could tell that everyone was enjoying themselves. Over the past two years, the nobles had slowly grown to accept him as king. Where they had once found him rough around the edges, they now praised him for his practical and fair views, which allowed him to resolve any disputes brought before him peacefully. In fact, the nation had prospered, despite the hardships of the year prior to Alistair's reign, and most credited him with that.

When the feast was done, the crowd moved to the adjacent hall. In the planning of the event, Alistair had said they could just shove the tables back once the feast was over, but Lyrina wanted none of that. She insisted that she didn't want her guests having to watch the servants clean off the tables, nor did she want them dancing among the dirty dishes. So they moved, where a number of musicians were already set up and playing. Servants wandered about the room, serving drinks, and the dancing soon began.

Alistair only danced a little, a few times with Lyrina, once with her mother, and even once with Arlessa Isolde. For the most part, he and his queen sat at the front of the room, observing their guests, some of whom would come up and exchange pleasantries. He watched Lyrina stiffen just a little when Leliana made her way up to the front.

"Your Majesties," she said, bowing low. "What a delightful party this is." She smiled at Lyrina. "Your dress is beautiful, and I absolutely love your shoes."

Alistair was pleased to see Lyrina relax a little as Leliana kept her focus on the queen. When the song that had been playing ended, there was a shout from somewhere in the back of the hall.

"The bard! Let the bard sing!"

This request was repeated by a number of people, and Leliana smiled winningly to the crowd. She turned to Alistair and Leliana. "If it pleases Your Majesties, I would perform a new song." When they nodded, she turned to the guests, her voice carrying through the immense hall. "We are happy tonight, but this is a song for winter, a song for loss, a song for all the lovers who could have been."

She retrieved her harp as she continued to speak. "I hope you will forgive me that it's in the Elven tongue, but it lends itself so well to sadness. After I sing it the way it is meant to be sung, I'll sing it again in the common tongue."

The crowd was silent as she began. Alistair felt himself carried away, back to the night in camp when Leliana had sung for them. It was after they'd returned from the Brecilian Forest, and he remembered the mournful song she'd sung to Jessimyn about the Dalish. The song she was singing now was even more so, and though he didn't know what she was singing, Alistair felt himself moved by her song. However, nothing prepared him for the meaning of the song, when she began to sing in the common tongue.

*_The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance._

_The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. _

_On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky. _

_She loved me sometimes, and I loved her. How could I not have loved her great, still eyes? _

_I can sing the saddest song of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. _

_To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul as dew to grass. _

_What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars, and she is not with me. _

_That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. _

_My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart searches for her, and she is not with me. _

_The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are no longer the same. _

_I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. _

_Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes. _

_I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. _

_Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, and my soul is lost without her._*

When the music faded away, there was silence in the hall, save for the sniffles from those touched by Leliana's words. Alistair felt a cold sickness in his chest, and he saw Lyrina reach up to brush a tear from her eye. After a moment, there was applause, and many people went to Leliana to compliment her on her performance. The music started back up again, a little somber at first, but it quickly picked up speed, and the sadness everyone had felt was at least pushed aside, if not forgotten.

This was not so, for Alistair. He felt hollow, as if Leliana had looked into his heart and pulled the words from it. It was true that he had spoken some with her about his feelings for Jessimyn, about what he felt at her being gone, but he hadn't expected Leliana to understand so well. Lyrina was talking softly to her mother when Leliana made her way back up to the dais, to Alistair's side.

"What did you think?" She asked, looking very proud of herself.

"I... you... could have warned me," he said softly, and she looked shocked.

"You knew I had planned on writing a song about..." she lowered her voice so no one could hear. "...the two of you."

Alistair made a strangled sound. "Yes, but I wasn't expecting... that."

Just then, Lyrina turned to see the two of them talking, and she leaned in, setting her hand on Alistair's arm, almost possessively. "That was beautiful, Leliana."

Leliana dipped a curtsy. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said before turning and going back down to the floor.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Alistair, and it was shortly before dawn when the king and queen left the hall to go back to their rooms. They stopped in front of Lyrina's door, and she kissed his cheek. "Are you... would you like to come in?" She asked.

"I... I'm sorry, my lady, but I'm afraid I'm not feeling well. I think I just need some sleep."

Lyrina seemed disappointed, but she nodded and went into her rooms. Alistair walked leadenly to his own. He tugged at his doublet, struggling with the buttons before he was finally able to drag it off and throw it on the ground. He pulled his boots off and dropped them just as carelessly before he went to a small drawer inside his armoir. He shuffled through it until he found what he was looking for, the small miniature he'd stolen from Fergus Cousland nearly a year earlier. Staring at it, he walked out onto his balcony, and laughed grimly at himself. Wasn't this always the place he went, when he felt empty. Something about the calm of the night, the cool of the air, it made him feel close to her, she who was so far away. He looked up to the sky, holding the miniature tight in his hands, and the words of Leliana's song rolled through his head.

"_What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars, and she is not with me."_

_~***~_

_*This is adapted from Pablo Neruda's poem, "Tonight I can write the saddest lines," which was a major inspiration for this whole story._


	18. Jessimyn Chapter 18

Jessimyn stretched luxuriously, a nervous flutter in her stomach. It was so warm in her bed, but she was trying to convince herself to leave it, although she hadn't yet convinced herself to even open her eyes. Today she would be boarding a ship that would take her to Highever. She didn't feel like she could call it home anymore, but it was a close thing. Highever, and Fergus, and his new baby. She considered her surroundings, wondering how Fergus would take it if he knew where she'd been staying these past few months. To say he would be furious would be an understatement. At least he would never know. Perhaps that was the reason she'd agreed to stay there in the first place, knowing that no one would ever find out about it.

Really, she'd just felt so near to breaking when she'd arrived in Antiva, and once Zevran found her, the thought of being away from him was too much for her. Though she'd never admit it to anyone, she had needed Zevran, needed his company and friendship, needed the relationship he'd been able to give, one that made no demands upon her heart. But was that really the case? She was going back to Highever, and he was not. A week had passed since she'd learned about Fergus' new baby, and during that time she had hoped he would change his mind about going with her, but he had not. And it hurt, more than she would have thought, the idea of leaving him.

"Oh, Zev..." she sighed softly.

"Dreaming about me, I see. How lovely."

Jessimyn jerked, sitting up quickly. "What... how did you get in here?"

Zevran laughed from where he was sitting, lounging in a chair near the foot of her bed. "I wanted to come say goodbye, but you were sleeping so peacefully, it seemed a shame to wake you."

With a quirk of her lips, she said, "That's funny. Your knock upon the door should have awakened me."

His eyes showed his amusement as he answered. "That would be true, had I knocked. The locks on these doors are easy enough to pick. I'm sure even you could manage them."

Jessimyn pulled her blanket around her shoulders. "So... how long have you been sitting there?"

"Do not be so shy, my dear. You didn't do anything _too_ embarrassing while you slept." He stood then and moved to sit next to her on the bed. "Your hair, though," he said, reaching to touch her brown locks. "It is a fright."

Jessimyn made a face and swatted his hand away. "So you break into my room to mock me. Remind me again why I thought I would miss you when I go?"

He grinned at her. "Oh, you will miss me terribly. You will _ache_ for me. Do not deny it. Why else would you wake up calling my name?"

Jessimyn's smile was sad. "Yes, I think I will miss you... at least a little. But why come now to say goodbye. We have all morning before the ship leaves."

Zevran shook his head. "I won't be going with you to the docks, so I want to say goodbye now."

"Not going with me... but why not?"

He touched her cheek. "I don't want to have to remember seeing you sail away. No, I think I'd rather remember you like this, lying in bed, your hair all askew, my head between your thighs." At her raised eyebrow, Zevran laughed. "Well, I may embellish my memories of this moment a little."

He leaned forward and kissed her, just the barest whisper of his lips upon hers, before he stood up. "This is not truly goodbye, though. We shall see each other again, of that I am sure." He bowed elaborately. "Give my regards to Alistair," he said as he winked at her, then he was out the door.

Jessimyn sat very still for a long while, staring at the door, before she gave her head a little shake and got out of bed. She took her time collecting all of her things, the amount of which had nearly tripled in size since she'd gotten to Antiva. As she made her way out of the building, she stopped to look into Zevran's room, but he was not there. She listened for his voice as she stood at the top of the stairs, but she didn't hear it. Jessimyn ducked out the back door when no one was looking, suddenly wanting very much to be away from the place.

The trip to the docks was an easy one, as Jessimyn had learned her way around the city quite well since she'd been there. The ship was very large, and as she stood waiting to board, she talked with some of the other passengers. It seemed Highever was only the first stop along the journey. A few were headed to Jader, but most people were traveling to the last stop in Val Royeaux. That made Jessimyn think about Leliana, and she wondered if she'd made it back to Denerim yet.

It was nearly three months later when the ship landed in Highever, and Jessimyn put her feet on Ferelden soil. Everything about the city was familiar to her, and she instantly became the Lady Cousland when she stepped off the docks. She quickly found someone to carry her things for her, and she began her trip to the Castle. A buzz followed her, as most of the people she passed recognized her. She paused just outside her family's estate, surprised by the rush of emotion she felt.

There were too many faces about that she didn't know, but also too many faces that she didn't see. However, there were enough people about who knew her, or at least knew her likeness, that she was quickly ushered inside. She heard the pounding of feet and knew that someone was running to find Fergus, and she didn't have to wait long before he appeared.

"Maker's breath," said Fergus upon seeing his sister. "We feared you were dead." He laughed then, and picked her up to twirl her around. "You've been gone too long, Jess. You're an aunt again, did you know?"

"Put me down, Fergus," she said, laughing with him. "Yes, I had heard, although not whether I have a niece or a nephew."

"A nephew," said Fergus, puffing his chest out. "A beautiful baby boy. We named him Bryce."

"...After father," said Jessimyn, and Fergus nodded. "He would have liked that."

There was a sound in the hallway, and the teyrn looked over his shoulder as Jenya arrived, carrying their child. "And there he is now." Fergus swooped over and plucked the child from his mother's arms, displaying the babe to his aunt.

The teyrna smiled at Jessimyn. "I'm Jenya. I think we met once, years ago. It's nice to finally meet you for real." She looked at her husband and son, a lovesick look on her face. "Quite the doting father, your brother. Why, sometimes I think he likes little Bryce more than he likes me."

_Of course he does_, thought Jessimyn cynically. _The baby's a Cousland. You are not. _"Yes, Fergus is quite the family man," she said, and her brother gave her a very pleased look. She leaned forward to look at her nephew. "He certainly is beautiful."

"Get Lady Cousland's chambers ready," Fergus barked at a nearby servant. "Make sure you get the fire going. I don't want her to be cold." He then turned to Jessimyn. "Come up to my sitting room, have a drink. Tell me where you've _been_ the past two years."

Jenya made to follow them, but Fergus gently handed the baby back to her. "I think he's hungry. Then he should probably be put down for a nap."

After Jenya was gone, Jessimyn said, "You could have just told her you wanted to speak to me in private."

He grinned at her. "Ah, but that might have offended my lovely wife. This way she feels useful."

He took her arm and led Jessimyn up to the family quarters. However, when they got there, she froze, memories of the night she'd fled from the castle flashing through her mind. Fergus frowned at her, then pulled her gently into his sitting room.

"Daynin!" He barely said the word and the man appeared. "Get Lady Cousland and myself a drink. The bourbon, I think."

When the drinks had been poured and they were alone, Fergus regarded her thoughtfully. "I was going to ask you about where you've been, so let's start there. It's been over two years, Jess. Closer to two and a half. When those other Grey Wardens returned and you did not, I was worried for your safety."

"They... kept me in Weisshaupt," she said, suddenly cautious.

"For a year?" Fergus asked, eyebrows raised. "That's how long your fellow Wardens have been back, I believe.

"Not the entire time, no, but for a long while. It's not something I can talk about with you, so can we please leave it? Besides, you don't really care where I've been, just that I'm back now, and that I'm safe."

He watched her for a while before saying, "If you preferr that we move on to my next question, so be it. I want you tell me what happened, that night. We had so little time together in Denerim, I never got to ask."

Jessimyn sighed. "It was... horrible. You don't want the details, Fergus."

"Oh, but I do. I need them. Tell me." He was insistent.

"Fine," she said, pausing to collect her thoughts. "It was... You'd already left, and it was late that night. Everyone was asleep. There were shouts in the hall that woke us, and..."

"Us?" Fergus asked.

"Oh. Well, you remember that Lady Landra and her son were visiting? Dairren was... in my room with me. We heard the noise, and he went to the door to see what it was. When he opened it, he... they... it was all so fast, one minute he was standing there, and the next he was lying on the floor, bleeding on my carpet. You know I keep a dagger under my bed. Well, I grabbed it and managed to kill the two men trying to come into my room, but there were more in the hallway. I ran out there to see Mother."

Jessimyn took a drink before continuing her tale. It took her much longer than she would have thought, as if the telling made her remember all of the details she'd been trying so hard to forget. Fergus listened intently, gripping the arms of his chair. When she finished, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. They sat there, silent, for a long time, before she reached out and squeezed her brother's hand.

"And from there, you and Duncan went straight to Ostagar?" Fergus asked, and when his sister nodded, he said, "You know, when the king was here for my wedding, he had a monument built for Duncan. It's on the bluffs, overlooking the sea."

"Did he?" Jessimyn asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "We... we had talked about doing that, but we... I'm glad he did. On the bluffs, you say? On our land?" Fergus nodded. "You let him build it on our land. Thank you, Fergus."

He smiled at her. "You seem shocked, as if you believe that I'm only capable of thinking of myself." When Jessimyn didn't respond, he chuckled. "You've never given me quite enough credit, Jess. Well, you must be hungry, after eating the slop on a ship for the past few months. Go freshen up and meet us for dinner."

It was very strange, sleeping in her old bed that night. It had only been a few years, but Jessimyn felt like a changed person from who she had been. It felt odd that this castle used to be the entirety of her world. As the days passed, Jessimyn came to realize how much she had missed Highever. She got to know Jenya and found that she liked the woman quite a bit. Jessimyn took every chance she had to spend time with Bryce, as if trying to make up for any opportunities she had lost with Oren.

One day she was sitting out in the gardens, admiring the newly blooming roses. She'd been back in Highever for about three weeks, and it was finally starting to feel like spring. It had rained lightly over the previous few days, and there was new green growth on all of the trees. She felt sad, recalling all the time she'd spent with her mother in the gardens. Her mother had loved her flowers, but many of her beds had been ripped out and replaced by shrubbery. Jessimyn wondered if Howe had done that. At least he had left the roses. Those had always been Eleanor Cousland's favorites.

When Jessimyn went back inside, she noticed the servants all seemed to be rushing about much more quickly than normal, many of the muttering under their breath. She saw quite a few of them headed towards the guests' quarters of the castle. Were they going to have guests? She went to the main hall, where Fergus seemed to be in a heated discussion with the steward.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"You haven't heard?" Jenya asked, a wide smile on her face. The look Fergus gave her was one of annoyance, but she continued on. "The king and queen are coming to visit! We just had a messenger. They should be here in about a week. Imagine, only giving a week's notice."

"The king..." said Jessimyn, her face paling. "...and queen. How... lovely. If you would excuse me." She knew Fergus was watching her closely, but it was all she could do not to sprint from the room.

She went straight for her bedchamber, where she pulled her bags from beneath her bed. She began packing up her things as quickly as she could. Alistair was coming. She couldn't... no, she wasn't ready to see him. Jessimyn had wanted it to be on her own terms, back in Denerim, where she would be surrounded by her Grey Wardens. But he didn't know she was in Highever. If she could get away before he got there, he'd think he just missed her. It would give her at least a few more months to prepare herself. Yes, best to be away as soon as she could.

There was the sound of the door to her sitting room opening and closing, footsteps across the floor, and then the door to her bedroom opened. Fergus strode in, looked pointedly at the bags sitting atop her bed, and frowned.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

Jessimyn straightened as she picked up one of the bags and clutched it to her chest. "You know very well what I'm doing, Fergus. I'm leaving. I can't be here when he gets here. I can't. I'm going back to Denerim, probably first thing in the morning."

"Oh, I don't think so, my sweet sister," said Fergus, pulling the bag from her hands. "You're not going anywhere."


	19. Fergus Chapter 19

Fergus took the bag from Jessimyn's hands and threw it across the room. "If you think I'm going to let you just walk out of here, you're insane."

Jessimyn crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't keep me here."

"Can't I?" He asked, smiling at her. "I'm the head of this family, now. You will stay here and greet your king."

Fergus watched the emotions on Jessimyn's face. Why was she being so stubborn? Couldn't she see this for the opportunity that it was? And why did she fight him? Surely she knew he had her best interests at heart.

"I... can't, Fergus. Not like this. I can't... spring this on him. He doesn't even know that I'm here, and then to have him... just walk in on me like that?"

"Like what? You mean in front of his wife?" Fergus knew the question would sting, but he threw it at her anyway. "You're afraid he won't be able to control himself in front of her? Or are you afraid that he _will_ be able to?"

"Just let me go back to Denerim," she said, and Fergus was pleased that she was asking permission. That was good. She needed to know her place in the family, Grey Warden or no.

He shook his head. "But that won't do at all. You think the servants won't talk? You think Alistair won't hear that you were just here but left as soon as you had word he was coming? How do you think that will look? You are the _Hero of Ferelden_, and he is the king of Ferelden. People would talk, if it seems you try to avoid him. Not only that, but it will look very suspicious that you leave abruptly to travel to Denerim, when you can stay here and travel back with the royal party in a month or so when they return. Why would you choose to travel alone, unless you have something to hide. No, you will stay here, and when Alistair decides to return to Denerim, you will go with him."

She shook her head, sighing. "After all this time, are you really still scheming to get us together? He's married, Fergus. He has his queen. We... I haven't seen him in so long. He's probably forgotten all about me."

Fergus almost laughed at how unconvincing she sounded. "I assure you, he hasn't," he said, grinning at her.

"Oh," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I assume he told you that himself, did he? I doubt it."

"But look how interested you are to know the answer. Probably getting yourself all excited, just thinking about it."

Jessimyn looked taken aback. "Must you be so crass?"

Fergus smiled. "I must. But if you don't believe me, I will prove it to you." He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of her bedroom, across the hall, and into his own sitting room. He pushed her towards the shelf near his fireplace. "Remember those?"

Jessimyn reached out to lightly touch the marble miniatures that sat there. She picked up the ones of her parents and looked at them, then set them down to pick up the miniatures of Oren and Oriana. Upon setting those down, she said, "But where's mine?"

Fergus gave her a triumphant smile. "Yes, where _is_ yours? It's not here, of that I am sure. I'm equally as sure that it's in Denerim, although I suppose it's possible it's on its way here now."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

"Come, come, Jess. You may be a fool, but you were never stupid. Alistair took it, of course. When he and Lyrina were here for my wedding. We were here, in this room having a drink, when I had to step out into the hall. One of the guardsmen had noticed something strange in the yards and wished to report it to me. When I came back inside, he was standing near this shelf and quickly moved away from it. After he left, I looked, and I saw that your miniature was gone." He wrinkled his nose. "He probably likes to hold it and look at it while he..." He made an obscene hand gesture.

"Fergus!" Jessimyn cut him off. "I will not have this conversation with anyone, least of all my _brother_."

"Why not?" Fergus asked with a shrug. "You've never been ashamed of your exploits before."

Jessimyn stared at him for a long time. "Alistair is no exploit of mine, this you well know."

The smile on Fergus' face was victorious. "Yes, I do know. You love him. And I've just confirmed for you that he still loves you. This should make you happy."

"Just... leave me alone, Fergus."

He crossed his arms and waited, and after a moment she gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm not leaving; you have successfully bullied me into staying. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said and left her room.

Fergus went back down to the main hall. He knew she had been planning something rash when she rushed from the room like she did, and he once again muttered a curse at his wife's insensitivity. True, Jenya knew nothing of the history between Alistair and Jessimyn, but sometimes his wife acted like a puppy, all bark and bounce when she got excited about something. But then, he supposed the king's visit _was_ something to be excited about, though his reasons were likely different from Jenya's.

Fergus finished his conversation with the steward, made sure the guest rooms were being put to rights, and ordered the cook to get him a menu for the welcoming feast by the end of the day. Fergus couldn't help but feel offended that they were not given proper time to prepare for the king and queen's arrival. He could almost excuse Alistair, as the man did not have a noble's upbringing, but surely Lyrina knew better. Well, at least they hadn't just shown up at the door, like Jessimyn did.

There were just so many things to do. Many of them, he could delegate to someone else, but Fergus wanted their visit to be perfect. True, it was not their first visit to Highever, but that wasn't really what mattered. It would be the first time Jessimyn and Alistair would see each other since the time of his coronation. By the time he finally retired for the night, he had plans upon plans whirling in his head.

Fergus crawled into bed and slid over towards his already dozing wife. He kissed his way up her shoulder to her ear and was rewarded with a soft giggle.

"I didn't think you were ever coming to bed," said Jenya.

"There's just so much to do," Fergus replied. "I know you will be very busy in the next few days, but I have a favor to ask."

"Anything," she said. "What is it?"

"It's Jess," he said, sure to keep his voice casual. "You know that she and the king are acquainted, but she's been traveling on Grey Warden business for so long that she hasn't seen him in years. She's been living as a soldier, so she feels a little rough, and I think she's afraid she'll make a bad impression on the queen. Of course, she would never say so, but I think she's nervous about meeting your cousin. I was hoping you might be able to help her out."

"Oh?" Jenya perked up. "Help her out how?"

Fergus traced a finger down his wife's cheek. "Jess is pretty and all, but she doesn't know beauty the way you do, my love. The morning of the day that the king and queen are set to arrive, I was hoping you could help her get ready. Find someone to do her hair, find her some jewelry, pick out a dress for her. She brought some things with her, but I want her dressed in something suitable of her station. Left on her own, she'd probably just grab the first thing she sees."

"I can do that. It should be fun. I have some sapphires that would match her eyes beautifully. Ooh, what about that blue dress I had made for me before we had Bryce. I got big so quickly, I never got to wear it. It would probably need to be taken in, as skinny as she is, but that shouldn't take more than a day. And her hair..." Jenya ran her ideas by her husband, and Fergus was pleased.

"I knew you'd be up for this," he said, kissing her again. He was silent for a while, as if he was falling asleep, but then he spoke, almost as if it was an afterthought, "Oh, and Jenya? Don't tell her this was my idea. In fact, best make it sound like it was your own. I'd hate for her to be embarrassed, like we think she needs the help."

The next few days were a blur of preparations, and Fergus kept his distance from his sister. The less she knew about his plans, the better. Jenya had had a time getting Jessimyn to sit for a fitting of the dress, but she finally talked her into it, managing to make it sound like it was Jessimyn that was doing Jenya a favor.

The morning the royal party was set to arrive, Jessimyn was pulled into Jenya's solar right after breakfast. They were in there for hours, and when they were finally done, Jessimyn went to find Fergus right away, as he knew she would. When she burst into Fergus' sitting room, he was ready for her.

"Look what your wife has done to me!" She exclaimed.

He smiled and looked her over. Jessimyn's brown hair had always been kept at chin length while she was growing up, but she'd let it grow out in the time that she was away so that it fell down past her shoulders. It had been curled gently and all pinned to one side, so that the curls fell down over her left shoulder, leaving her right shoulder bare. She wore tiny sapphires in her ears, as well as a sapphire choker around her neck. Her deep blue dress was richly embroidered in silver threads across the bodice, and the neckline was cut wide so that it hung off of her shoulders. Full sleeves hung down at her sides, billowing around her wrists.

"What's wrong, my sweet sister?" He asked. "You look beautiful."

"She has dressed me up like a doll."

Fergus laughed. "Don't pout so. You are dressed as befitting a lady of your station. Perhaps you just don't remember what it's like. Besides, Lyrina is Jenya's cousin, or have you forgotten? I'm sure she wants you to make a good impression on her."

Jessimyn peered at her brother. "This is ridiculous. I don't want to let him see me like..." Her eyes widened a little, and she clamped her mouth shut.

Fergus could almost laugh at how quickly she turned back into the ten-year-old girl he remembered, the one who ran to him when she skinned her knees or got in trouble. While she'd always put on a brave face to everyone else, had always been the tough little girl that no one could tell what to do, it was their usual habit that he made the decisions, and she agreed to them. Fergus knew she was a leader among the Grey Wardens, that it was she who had ultimately defeated the Blight, but Jessimyn was home now, and at home, Fergus led.

"You don't want him to see you like what?" Fergus asked, adopting a patient look. "Like a Cousland? Like a lady instead of a warrior? You are both, so why should he not see both? He's seen you in armor. Let him see you in silks."

"But Fergus..." she said.

"I understand that you're nervous. You just need to relax. But you know, I've been thinking about something you said a few days ago, and I think you might be right." She gave him a skeptical look, and he continued. "You said it wasn't fair to Alistair to just spring this on him, and I think you're right. If he were to just walk in and see you, it might be too much of a shock. So here's what you'll do instead. You'll let Jenya and myself greet them, and then you can meet with him later."

Jessimyn raised her eyebrows. "What, you want me to hide in my rooms? I think that might look bad."

Shaking his head, Fergus said, "No, no, no. I don't think you should be in the castle at all when he arrives. I'd suggest taking a trip up to the monument the king built for Duncan. When the king and queen get here, we will gently let him know you are also in Highever. If he wishes a private meeting with you first, he can go out there. Otherwise, he can wait for you to return. Either way, it will be less of a surprise to see you."

"But why... why there?"

With a shrug, Fergus said casually, "Why not? It would allow you both to have a moment alone, if you wish, without any impropriety. As it is a place sacred to you both, as Grey Wardens, it is unlikely that anyone else would want to intrude. Provided he even wishes to go up there at all. If he does not, well... then you will return home and can greet the king and queen then."

"I... I don't know if it's a good idea. Being alone..."

Fergus cut her off. "Let Alistair decide if it's a good idea or not."

In the end, Jessimyn agreed to his plan, though it took some convincing on his part. Shortly after she left, Jenya burst into Fergus' sitting room.

"The king and queen will likely be here within the hour, and your sister just left!"

"Yes, I know," Fergus explained calmly. "She thought it best that we greet the king and queen ourselves."

"But... I spent so much time getting her ready, and she's not even going to be here?"

Fergus shrugged. "She is more nervous about meeting the queen than I thought. So she's gone up to the bluffs, where the king built that monument, you remember?" Jenya nodded, and he continued. "She said she would stay up there for a few hours, until they're good and settled in, and then she'll return."

"Well..." said Jenya, trying to find an objection. "She better not get her dress dirty."

When Fergus and Jenya finally got word that their guests were arriving, they made their way to the main hall to greet them. Once inside, Lyrina rushed to Jenya immediately, cooing over the baby in her arms. Fergus bowed to the king, who was followed in by a small group of people, not including all the servants who were being shown where to put their things, of course. The people with him were mostly guards, though there was one woman there as well. Fergus couldn't place her, but she looked familiar.

"Welcome, Your Majesties," said Fergus. "We are honored at your visit."

Fergus inquired about their trip, and the two men exchanged pleasantries as Lyrina went back to Alistair's side. "We should let you freshen up," said Fergus. "Though I suppose I should let you know that you are not the only visitors we have here at the moment."

"Oh?" Lyrina asked, looking at Jenya. "Is your family here?"

"No," said Fergus. "Actually, it is _my_ family. Well, my sister, anyway. She has returned recently."

"Jess is here?" The woman who had arrived with the king asked.

Fergus frowned, still trying to place her. "She is in Highever, yes, though not in the castle at the moment. I'm sorry, have we met? You look familiar to me."

"I am Leliana," she said. "I'm a friend of your sister's. Where is she? I may go look for her, while everyone else is getting settled in."

_No_, thought Fergus. _This will not do._ "I believe she went to visit the monument the king had built, for one of their Grey Warden leaders."

"...Duncan's monument," said Alistair, as if coming out of a trance. "I... you know, it wasn't finished when we left, the last time we were here. I did want to go see how it turned out. Maybe... maybe I'll go up there. If she's still there, I'll let her know that we've arrived."

Fergus was about to encourage the king to do just that when Leliana burst in, "I'll go with you."

"No!" Lyrina said quickly, then she cleared her throat softly and added, "That is... we've just arrived. Surely you are both tired and need to rest first."

"I..." Alistair paused for a moment. "I may as well go now, as I am still dusty from travel."

"And I..." Leliana began, but she stopped at a small look Alistair gave her. "You're right, Your Majesty," she said to the queen. "I do wish to rest. I can see Jessimyn when she returns."

_Interesting_, thought Fergus. _So the queen doesn't trust this Leliana to be alone with Alistair. And this woman obviously knows of the history between Jess and the king._

Lyrina looked upset, but Alistair took her hand and kissed it. "You and your cousin are likely going to lock yourselves in a room and talk for hours about babies. I might as well go see Duncan's monument now. You likely won't even notice I'm gone."

Fergus just sat back, watching his plan fall into place. He had been worried it might take some subtle convincing to get the king to go to the bluffs, but it was clear to Fergus that Alistair wanted nothing more than to have a moment alone with Jessimyn. Of course, the real question was whether or not Jessimyn would use this to her advantage. That part, at least, was out of Fergus' hands.


	20. Alistair Chapter 20

It was a cool spring day, but Alistair felt flushed. Once he had convinced Lyrina that he would not be gone long, he'd made his way out of the castle towards the road that would lead to the bluffs. As the way between the castle and the bluffs was all part of the Cousland's land, the road did not pass through the city. Alistair had only brought three of his guardsmen with him, and they trailed after him, trying to keep up with his quick pace.

As he got closer to the bluffs, he slowed. What was he doing? Why had he insisted on going out there, when he could have just waited until she returned to the castle to see her. That would have been the wiser decision, yet there was a wrongness to it. The thought of seeing Jessimyn again, after all this time, with his wife on his arm... no, that wouldn't do. He tried to convince himself that he was simply trying to spare Jessimyn's feelings, but with the way his stomach seemed to be flipping about, he knew that wasn't it, either. He still thought of her as _his_. Alistair wanted her all to himself, at least for a little while, before he had to share her with everyone else. He was glad Leliana had gotten the hint, as there would have been nothing he could have said to make her stay at the castle that wouldn't have sounded suspicious.

The road ended just at the base of the bluffs, and there was only a small, worn path leading to the top. Alistair told his guardsmen to wait at the bottom. They wanted to accompany him to the top, but he refused, telling them this was a sacred area, and he wished to be alone.

"Besides," Alistair added. "The teyrn's sister is up there, or is supposed to be. I don't want to startle the lady."

He chose to ignore the looks the men gave each other as he began his ascent. When he made it to the top, he paused. There was a line of trees obscuring the monument from view, so he wouldn't even know if Jessimyn was there until he was right upon her. As slowly as he could, he crept forward through the trees. Alistair saw the monument first, a giant rampant griffin standing atop a large stone base, facing the sea. It was when he stepped to the edge of the tree line when he saw her.

The woman's back was to him, and for a moment Alistair wasn't sure if it was Jessimyn at all. She looked so different from how he remembered her. Her hair was longer, and curled. She'd always kept her hair short, and in most of his memories of her, it was plastered to her head with either blood or sweat... or both. He'd seen her in dresses before, but nothing quite so fine as what she was wearing now. He must have made a noise because she turned, ever so slowly. It seemed to take an hour just for her to turn around and look at him, and when they saw each other, they froze, neither of them able to move or speak.

"Hello, Alistair," Jessimyn finally said.

"_Hello_ she says," Alistair mimicked. "No one's seen or heard from you in over a year. Maker's breath, Jess. We thought you were dead."

"Surprise?" Jessimyn asked, a smile flitting across her face.

"What happened?" Alistair asked, slowly walking towards her. "I spoke to Jakob, and he told me about what was decided in Weisshaupt, but what kept you there so long?"

With a sigh, Jessimyn sat on the base of the monument. "What did Jakob tell you?"

Alistair sat next to her. "He told me about the meeting you had, with the Warden Generals. Oh, and I must say, the idea of using the Ashes? Very clever. But he said that they were going to keep you there, to... test you, to make sure you didn't have any part of the Archdemon inside you."

Jessimyn nodded. She repeated to Alistair the same things she had told Zevran of her time in the fortress, and the king repeated the same question the elf had had for her.

"And what of Morrigan? Were they able to find out about that, about what we... what I..."

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, I managed to keep that from them. Our secret is safe."

Alistair looked relieved. "Good," he said, then he grimaced. "Forgive me. You've just told me about a horrible experience you had to go through, and I'm worried about how it might affect me." He swallowed, not wanting to ask the next question, but he couldn't help it. "So after you left Weisshaupt... what happened then?"

She was quiet for a long while before she said, "I went to Antiva."

"Ah," said Alistair softly. He knew what that meant, as Jakob had told him who their traveling companions had been on their journey, and what happened to them when they all parted ways. "To see Zevran. So... is he here with you, then?" He hated the sick feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, but he felt a little relief when she shook her head.

"No, he is not," Jessimyn said. Alistair waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't. He wanted to ask her a dozen questions, but he feared what the answers might be. Jessimyn had been well-loved by their whole group, which he could understand, but he'd always been a little jealous of the relationship she'd formed with the assassin.

There was an awkward silence then, as they looked at each other. Jessimyn stood suddenly and walked towards the edge of the bluff, looking out over the sea. When she turned around, she nodded at the stone griffin. "The monument... I think Duncan would have liked it."

Alistair stood up slowly and walked to her. He wondered if she felt as nervous as he did. "It doesn't seem like it's enough. I wish I could do more." He stood close to her now, close enough that he could touch her, if he so dared. His hands twitched at his side. "I've... missed you, Jess," he said, watching her for her reaction.

She gave him a sad smile. "You know why I had to leave."

Alistair nodded, not wanting to get into that conversation again. He reached up to touch her hair. "It's gotten so long. I like it."

She turned her head towards the curls that hung over her shoulder. "I'll probably cut it again. It's too much work."

Turning her head as she did only caused Alistair's attention to be drawn to her neck and bare shoulder. He felt his mouth going dry. "Maker," he whispered. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Jessimyn looked at him and moved as if to take a step back, but Alistair caught her around the waist and pulled her into an embrace. He was afraid she would pull away, but after a brief hesitation, she put her arms around him as well. They held each other for a long time, Alistair breathing in her scent. She had always smelled faintly of roses, and he found that he had missed it. Lyrina and the other women at court tended to wear heavy perfumes, which were not necessarily unpleasant, but they could be cloyingly strong.

Alistair leaned his head down, his lips near her ear, and he whispered, "I really have missed you."

Then his lips were on hers, and Alistair couldn't say who had initiated it. She rested her hands on his shoulders, while he moved one hand up to the back of her neck, while his other hand rested on the small of her back. He parted his lips, flicking his tongue into her mouth. As the kiss deepened, his grip on her neck tightened, and Alistair pulled Jessimyn's body towards his, pressing himself as fully against her as he could. He broke the kiss, then put his mouth to her neck, nipping and kissing her. He could hear Jessimyn's ragged breath as she gripped his shoulders tightly. He moved his hands to run along her collarbones, down to the neckline of her bodice, which he was able to move down to expose a breast.

Together they lowered themselves to the ground, Jessimyn beneath him, and Alistair took her nipple into his mouth, his hands already working to pull the skirt of her dress up. She ran her fingernails lightly over the back of his neck, gasping as his fingers found their way inside her.

"Alistair," she gasped. "Oh... Maker..."

But as Alistair leaned back to begin undoing the laces of his breeches, Jessimyn put her hand on his leg, coming up into a half-sitting position. "No, Alistair, we... can't."

He pulled her up, once again pressing his lips to her neck. "Yes we can, Jess."

"No... Maker, you have to stop that. I can't think straight." She gently pushed him away. "We... I... not like this, Alistair. We can't. You... you're married. What about Lyrina?"

"What about her?" Alistair asked, trying not to appear sullen. He took a deep breath. "You know I don't love her," he said softly, though he couldn't help but feel traitorous at his words. However, he could tell that the moment had passed, at least for her, and he sat back on his heels, looking down at Jessimyn.

"Does _she_ know that?" Jessimyn asked, her voice gentle.

Alistair raked a hand through his hair and stood up. He rubbed his eyes, then reached his hand down to help Jessimyn up. Once standing, she shook out her skirts, and Alistair hooked a finger under the neckline of her bodice, pulling it up so that she was decently covered. As she set to putting her dress aright, Alistair took a moment to adjust himself, his arousal no lessened standing than it had been lying atop her. He looked at her, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Your hair..." he said, and she reached up to touch it. Some of her pins had come loose, and her hair looked a little wild. "Turn around," he said, and when she did, he began replacing the loose pins so that her hair was as it had been when he first saw her. He couldn't help himself, and he trailed his fingertips down her neck. She shivered lightly under his touch.

When he finished with her hair, Jessimyn turned around to face Alistair, and they looked at each other for a long time. It was all he could do not to push her back to the ground and take her, despite her objections. His hands twitched again, and he took a step back. "We should go. I'm not sure I can trust myself to be alone with you any longer," he said, and she nodded.

"Yes... they'll start to wonder if we don't return soon." She reached up to check her hair, smoothed her skirt over her hips, and then they moved together towards the path that would take them down the bluff, to where the guardsmen were waiting.

Alistair said nothing to his guards, and they fell in behind him as he and Jessimyn walked slowly back to the castle. The king was suddenly very glad that he had not changed out of his traveling clothes, which were loose. Had he been wearing his usual tight breeches, he would have been even more uncomfortable than he already was. He held his hands together behind his back to keep himself from reaching for her, and Alistair began telling Jessimyn of the Grey Wardens in Denerim as they walked. She seemed pleased to hear that two of the older Wardens that had accompanied Kyran and Jakob had left on a recruiting mission a few months earlier.

As soon as they got back to the castle, they went their separate ways. Alistair went back to his room, glad to find that Lyrina was not there. He paced back in forth for a while before going to find the water closet. He knew he had to relieve his tension, if he wanted to regain any of his composure. As he made his way back to his room only a few minutes later, he felt a little more under control. There was wash water set out, and he splashed it on his face before sitting on his bed.

He sat there, not moving, until Lyrina returned. She gushed about baby Bryce, and Alistair did all he could to seem interested. Finally, it was time to prepare for dinner, although that provided little relief, since he knew Jessimyn would be there. When they sat down at the dining table, Fergus and Jenya sat at the ends. Alistair and Lyrina were on one side of the table, while Jessimyn and Leliana sat on the other. From what he gathered, it seemed Fergus hadn't wanted Leliana there, but Jessimyn had insisted on it, once she learned the bard was in Highever. Fergus did little to hide his notion that Leliana was not really worthy of eating with the rest of them, but Leliana didn't seem too upset by it.

Dinner was awkward. Alistair and Jessimyn did their best not to look at each other, but the king could almost feel Fergus' eyes boring into him. Lyrina so pointedly ignored Leliana that she might as well have glared at her through the entire meal, although that didn't seem to bother the bard, either. It was obvious that Leliana was dying to talk to Jessimyn in private, but she did her best to be her usual charming self.

When the meal was over, Jessimyn and Leliana disappeared together. Lyrina claimed she was tired and wanted to turn in, but Fergus invited Alistair up to his sitting room for a drink. The last thing Alistair wanted right then was to be alone with Lyrina, so he followed the teyrn, blatantly not looking at Jessimyn's door as he went into Fergus' room. In fact, Alistair found it hard to sit still at all, and he found himself drinking more than usual, just to try to calm his nerves. As it started growing late, Alistair excused himself, saying he was weary.

Just as Alistar was about to go out the door, Fergus said, "You know... she's happy to see you." When the king said nothing, the teyrn smiled at him. "Have a good night, Your Majesty."

Alistair closed the door to Fergus' sitting room and stood in the hallway. He stared at Jessimyn's door, wondering if Leliana was still in there with her. He glanced around, then walked to the door, leaning in to see if he could hear anything. If the bard was in there, surely he would hear her, but there was nothing but silence coming from Jessimyn's rooms. He took a step back, lifting his hand to knock on the door, but then he stopped. "No," he whispered to himself. He moved back down the hallway, to go back to his own room where his wife was waiting for him.


	21. Fergus Chapter 21

Fergus only waited a few moments after Alistair left before calling out, "Daynin!" The man appeared, standing at attention near the fire. Fergus swirled his drink in his glass, took a sip, then said, "Report."

With a nod, Daynin began. "I followed the Lady Cousland to the monument and hid myself, as instructed. When the king arrived, they both seemed nervous. He asked her where she'd been the past year. She gave the king more details about her time away than she gave you, Your Grace. She said that they held her in Weisshaupt because they feared she may have part of the Archdemon inside her, and they performed tests on her to determine whether or not this was true."

Fergus frowned as he listened to the details of these tests, growing angrier the more he heard. "How dare they treat her so!" He growled, then gestured at Daynin to continue.

"His Majesty inquired as to whether these Grey Wardens had found out about their secret, something to do with a person named Morgan. Neither of them gave any details as to what this secret might be, however. The king then asked the Lady Cousland where she went after Weisshaupt, and she said she had gone to Antiva, to see someone named Zevran. His Majesty seemed troubled by this and asked if the man was here with her, and the Lady Cousland confirmed that he is not."

"Hmm... The name Zevran seems familiar to me, perhaps another one of their traveling companions. I don't think I've heard anything of someone named Morgan. Is this person male or female?"

Daynin shook his head. "They gave no indication either way, Your Grace."

"Continue, then."

"The king told the Lady Cousland that he missed her, that he liked her longer hair, and that she was beautiful, after which he embraced her. His Majesty then kissed the Lady Cousland, and..."

Fergus held up a hand, and Daynin paused. "Daynin, while usually I require your full attention to detail, in this one instance I'll ask you to summarize. Just tell me the important part."

"Your Grace?" Daynin asked.

"Did he fuck her?"

"No, Your Grace, though it was a near thing?"

"How near?" Fergus asked. "Again, as few actual details as possible."

"Well... the king had the Lady Cousland's breast in his mouth, and his hand was up her skirt."

Fergus frowned. "Who stopped it?"

"The Lady Cousland. In fact, the king tried to convince her to continue," said Daynin.

"Damn fool woman," Fergus muttered under his breath, and Daynin was wise enough not to respond to that. "Did she act upset, after? Or did _he_, for that matter?"

Daynin shook his head. "No, Your Grace. His Majesty helped the Lady Cousland straighten her hair. He told her that he couldn't trust himself to be alone with her any longer, and then they returned to the castle."

Fergus leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. So they _wanted_ it at least, that was good. Perhaps they just needed some... encouragement. "Bring me that packet of satyrion powder, Daynin."

Once Daynin had done so, Fergus went over to the small cabinet set into the wall and opened the door. He ran his hands over the bottles, finally selecting a large decanter of brandy. He took it back to where he had been sitting and set it on a table. Taking the small packet of powder into his hand, he considered it. Normally just a pinch or two added to a glass of wine would do the trick, as he well knew. He'd used the stuff plenty of times himself, after all. With a shrug, he dumped half of the powder into the glass container and swirled it about, watching for it to dissolve. He then handed the decanter to Daynin. "Put this back, and make sure you know which one it is. I don't want you serving it to me by accident. Then, you are dismissed."

Daynin did as he was told, and he disappeared back into his room. Over the next few days, Fergus did nothing but observe his guests. Lyrina was spending most of her time with Jenya, which was good. However, when Jessimyn and Alistair weren't avoiding each other, they had that Leliana woman with them. One day, while the three of them were together in the garden, Fergus decided to join them. Perhaps he could find the answer to one of his questions.

They had been laughing when he approached them, but they quieted as he sat down near them. Jessimyn and Alistair were sitting on the same bench, while Leliana was sitting on one across from them. Fergus was pleased to see his sister and the king sitting very close to each other, their legs touching, though they moved a little apart when he arrived.

"I hope I'm not intruding," Fergus said, an easy smile on his face.

"We were just... reminiscing," said Jessimyn.

"It must be nice, to all be together again," said Fergus. "Do any of you ever get a chance to see your other companions?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, everyone else has pretty much gone their separate ways, back to their homelands, for the most part. Leliana here is the only one who returned to Denerim."

"And the others?" Fergus asked, keeping his voice casual. "What were all of their names again?"

Jessimyn replied. "Well, there was Wynne. I thought she was going back to the Circle Tower, though she wasn't there when I passed through. Oghren returned to Orzammar, as did Shale. Sten went back to Par Vollen, and Zevran returned to Antiva."

Fergus noticed Leliana give Jessimyn a strange look, but the bard didn't speak. Was there something she was leaving out? "Ah yes, I remember Oghren. He was the dwarf, was he not? And Sten was the qunari? I'm not sure I remember who Zevran was, though."

Alistair was the one who responded. "Zevran was the annoying little elf," he said, earning him a look from Jessimyn.

"Ah yes," said Fergus, trying to remain calm. "I remember now. Well, I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll leave you to it, then." He stood, bowed to Alistair, and went back inside.

An _elf_? He felt himself getting angry. His sister would debase herself so far as to dally with an elf? And if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed that Alistair knew about it. Well, if he had any doubts about going through with the most immediate of his plans, they were gone now. Jessimyn needed to realize what was important, and that didn't include sleeping with everything that moved. No, what was important was that she renewed her relationship with the king. Without that, nothing else he had planned could come to fruition.

As the days continued to pass, Fergus watched the tension between Alistair and Jessimyn grow. He couldn't understand how Lyrina didn't notice, but then, it seemed the queen's attention was focused solely on keeping Leliana and the king apart. Perhaps the bard served a purpose in being here after all. He'd had Daynin listen in on some of the meetings between his wife and the queen, just to make sure she wasn't suspicious of anything.

"They talked mostly of your son, Your Grace," Daynin had told him. "But then the queen mentioned the Lady Cousland. Her Majesty said she wished she knew her better, as the Lady Cousland seems like an interesting woman, but also considering how close she is to the king. Your lady wife asked the queen if that bothered her, the king being surrounded by so many beautiful women."

Fergus clenched his jaw. "And what did Lyrina say to that?"

"The queen said that the bard, Leliana, made her a little nervous, as she couldn't be sure the two of them hadn't previously been involved. The teyrna asked the queen if she was feeling a little jealous, though she asked it in a teasing sort of way. Her Majesty said she worried that the king might expend his seed elsewhere, when it should be used to procure an heir. She said this in many more words than I've just used, and she seemed embarrassed as she said it. Your lady wife then asked the queen if she loved the king, and Her Majesty said she did not know, that it was too soon to tell. The teyrna claimed she already knew that she loved you very much, and..."

Fergus waved a hand. "That's hardly important. Did either the queen or my wife say any more of my sister?"

"No, Your Grace. From there, the conversation took a more personal turn. They spoke at length about yourself and the king."

Fergus frowned. "Anything I should be worried about?"

"No, Your Grace," said Daynin. "All of it was complimentary."

With a nod, Fergus gestured to his manservant. "You are dismissed, then."

A few days before the party was set to depart, Fergus asked his sister to see him in his sitting room after dinner. "You wanted something?" She asked when she entered.

He smiled at her. "Can't a man just want to spend time with his sister, especially knowing that she's going to be leaving in a few days?"

"Any other man? Probably so. You, however, tend to want something when you ask to see me."

Fergus gestured to a chair. "I'm just curious as to what you intend to do once you reach Denerim."

"My duty," she said as she sat. "I am a Grey Warden, lest you have forgotten. I may stay at the compound in Denerim if needed, I may travel to Amaranthine, or I may attempt to do some recruiting. It will depend on how things are in Denerim, when I get there."

"Duty..." said Fergus. "And what of your duty to the king?"

Jessimyn gave him an exasperated look. "What is that supposed to mean, Fergus? Alistair is my king, it is true, but Grey Wardens do not serve individual monarchs. You know this."

"Of course, of course," he said. "I'd just hate for you to get... distracted. You know, running off to a foreign land so you can go fuck some elf."

Her face reddened with anger. "How do you... how dare you speak to me so! How dare you even imply..."

"Oh, I know all about Antiva," said Fergus calmly.

Jessimyn straightened. "You know nothing, Fergus. You _understand_ nothing. I will not discuss anything like this with you."

"There's just something that's been bothering me," he said. "You know, with all of this talk of duty..." Fergus hesitated, knowing what he was about to say would hurt her. But, he knew it was necessary. "I just wonder if maybe Oriana and my little Oren would still be alive, if you hadn't been too busy fucking that Dairren fellow to notice what was going on in the castle."

Jessimyn reeled, flinching as if he'd struck her. "Fergus..." She said, burying her face in her hands. "Oh, Maker. Why would you say that? You know I loved them as much as you." When she looked up at him, there were tears on her face.

Fergus pitied her then. It took a lot to make her cry. He hadn't wanted to upset her, not truly, but some things were greater than her feelings. "That was cruel of me, Jess. I'm sorry," he said, and he actually meant it.

"Is... is that what you really think? You know I would give anything, do anything..."

"No, Jess, I... just want you to always remember what's most important."

She stared at him for a long while, reaching to wipe the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "You would lecture _me_... No. I'm going back to my room now."

"Wait, Jess, stay," he said. "Have a drink with me. I'm sure you could use one."

"I could use one, that is certain. But I do not wish to share it with you," she said as she moved towards the door.

"Wait," he said again, going to the cabinet that held his own personal stash. He pulled out the brandy he'd been saving. "Here, take this. It's better than anything you'll find in the kitchens. It's the least I can do."

She hesitated before taking the decanter from his hands. The door slammed shut behind her as she left. Fergus waited until he heard her own door open and shut before he left his sitting room, making his way down to the guest area of the castle. He found Alistair in the study and was pleased to see that he was alone.

"Your Majesty," he said with a bow. "Where is the queen, if I may ask?"

"She has retired for the night," he said.

"Ah," said Fergus. "That is good. You see, I..." He had the decency to look contrite. "I actually had a favor, something I was hoping you might help me with." At Alistair's raised eyebrows, he continued. "I fear I've made an ass of myself, and I've upset my sister a great deal. She has locked herself in her rooms, and she won't speak to me. I was hoping you might... go check on her. You are the only other person here that she trusts, and I just want to make sure she's all right."

The hesitation on Alistair's face was clear. "I'm... not sure that's a good idea, my going to her rooms."

Fergus nodded. "I understand. I wouldn't want any gossip started. If you're willing, we could walk up there together. You are often enough in my own sitting room that any who see us will assume that's where we are going. There shouldn't be anyone in the family quarters to see otherwise." At the king's continued reluctance, Fergus added, "Please, Your Majesty. I'm very worried about her."

Alistair finally consented, and the two men walked together to the hallway where the Cousland rooms were. After making sure there was no one around, Alistair went to knock on Jessimyn's door, and Fergus went back into his own rooms. Once inside, he couldn't help but smile to himself.


	22. Jessimyn Chapter 22

Jessimyn slammed Fergus' door, and then she slammed her own once she made it back into her sitting room. She set the decanter onto a table and collapsed into a chair. She already blamed herself enough for what had happened to her parents, Maker knew, but knowing that Fergus held her accountable as well... it was too much. She covered her mouth to hold back a sob. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and she suddenly felt like she couldn't leave Highever soon enough. To have to look at Fergus and know what he thought of her... it was definitely too much.

Being around Fergus these past two months had been difficult. She'd changed so much while she'd been away, and he... hadn't. She knew that his biggest priorities were and would always be towards their family. She knew he cared about her, but lately she'd begun wondering if that was because he loved her for her, or simply because she shared his Cousland blood. He didn't seem to understand her obligation to the Grey Wardens. Well, that or he _chose_ not to understand. But she'd always looked up to him, growing up, and it was harder every day to see the disappointment behind his eyes. She wanted him to be proud of her, but she wasn't sure what that would take anymore.

She wiped her eyes, wondering what Zevran would think of her just then, crying over things she couldn't change. He would probably make a jest and have her laughing in no time. A sudden feeling of loneliness overcame her, and she took in a few shuddering breaths. She missed Zevran, almost as much as she missed Alistair, and he wasn't a thousand miles. But even though he was near, it wasn't the same. She almost laughed, remembering something Alistair had asked her so long ago. He wanted to know if she'd miss it, when it was all over. It wasn't until now that she realized just how much she _did_ miss it – the easy camaraderie, the nights where everyone was gathered around the campfire, even the danger they seemed to find themselves in on a daily basis. They'd had a mission then, a purpose. She couldn't help but feel like she'd been floundering ever since.

There was a knock at the door, and Jessimyn sat up with a start. "Fergus, I told you I don't..." she began, but the door opened, and it was not Fergus standing there. Her eyes widened as Alistair entered her room and shut the door softly behind him. The look he gave her was apologetic.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said. "I did not wish to announce myself, in case someone might overhear. There might be talk, if it was known I was visiting your room late at night."

"What... what are you doing here, Alistair?" Jessimyn asked, and she found herself hoping that her eyes were not red and puffy.

"Your brother," he said. "He asked me to check on you. He said you were upset, that it was his doing, and he was worried about you."

"He needn't have bothered," she said, turning her face away from him. "I'll be fine."

Alistair went to stand in front of her. "I hope you'll forgive me for saying it, but you don't look fine right now."

"No," she said, trying to smile. "But I _will be_ fine. With enough time. And enough alcohol." She stood up and skirted around him to pick up the bottle her brother had given her. "Since you're here, would you care to join me?"

The king nodded, and she went to retrieve two glasses. With her back to him, she pressed her eyes closed, to keep herself from getting emotional again. Alistair had never seen her cry before, and she didn't want him to see her crying now. He must have noticed something, though, because he went to stand behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Jessimyn leaned her head to the side, rubbing her cheek lightly on the back of his hand. She suddenly realized that she desperately wanted him to hold her. But what would he think about that, after she'd pushed him away before? Well, she supposed there was only one way to find out.

Jessimyn turned around and put her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest. Alistair held her close, running a hand over her hair. "I don't think I told you before," she murmured. "But I've missed you, too."

He ran a finger down her cheek and under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him just then, but she refrained. After a moment, she cleared her throat softly and took a step back. Jessimyn poured them both a drink, and he placed his hand over hers, stroking her fingers with his thumb as he accepted the glass.

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their brandy. Finally, Alistair said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know..." Jessimyn said, a little wary. If she told Alistair what Fergus had said, he would be angry, and there was still a part of her that wanted to protect her brother. "We were having a discussion, and he said something... it was very hurtful to me. I don't think he meant it, not really, but once it was said..." She shrugged. "Maybe I'm just being silly."

"You are a number of things," said Alistair. "Silly is not one of them." He finished his drink and set the empty glass aside before hooking the leg of her chair with his foot to pull her closer to him, so that their knees were touching. "No, I can think of much better words to describe you."

Jessimyn downed the rest of her drink, amazed at how flushed she felt. The brandy must have been stronger than she realized. She found herself rubbing her knee against his before she realized what she was doing. The realization didn't make her stop, though, and Alistair didn't seem to mind, either. "So what words _would_ you use, then?" She asked, amazed at the nervous feeling fluttering in her chest. Jessimyn was reminded of how she had felt early on in their relationship.

She'd always found him attractive, and he had flirted with her in the beginning as much as she did with him. When she had invited him back to her tent that first time, Alistair had declined, assuring her that while he was interested in her, he felt he needed to know her better before taking that step. That had surprised Jessimyn, but she had respected his wishes and waited, allowing him to come to her when he was ready. Those months of waiting had been torturous, and she recalled many nights when she went back to her tent, aching and wanting more than he was willing to give just then. She felt that same longing now, and she was surprised by its intensity.

Alistair ran his fingers over her forearm. "Hmm.. what words would I use to describe you? Resourceful. Brave. Independent. Kind." He gently took her hand in his. "And beautiful, but you know I think that of you."

Jessimyn took in a shaky breath. She hadn't felt this out of control in years. "Alistair..."

He lifted her hand to kiss her fingers. "I probably shouldn't be here," he said as he stood up.

Jessimyn felt her stomach lurch. He was just going to leave? She said nothing as she watched him walk to the door, but instead of going through it, he flipped the lock and turned back around to face her, a little smile on his face. It was then that she noticed Alistair looked as flushed as she felt. She stood up as he walked back over to her.

"I shouldn't be here," he repeated. "But I'm not going to leave unless..." He touched her cheek, running his fingers down her neck and over her collarbones. "...Unless you ask me to."

Jessimyn put her hands around his waist. "I'm not going to ask you to," she said in a throaty voice.

"Good," Alistair said as he pulled her to him. His lips were soft as they met hers, and she wrapped her arms fully around him. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. Alistair nipped lightly at her bottom lip, then pressed his lips to her ear. "Maker, Jess. I want you. I've wanted you since the moment I saw you. I _need_ you." He pressed his body against hers, and she felt just how desperate that need was.

She took a small step back, keeping her eyes on his as she began to undo the buttons that ran down the front of her dress. Taking that as a cue, Alistair immediately began removing his doublet and shirt, tossing them onto a chair. Jessimyn stepped out of her dress, and they stood there, she in her chemise, he in his breeches. She reached to undo his laces, slipping her hand down to wrap her fingers around his length. He gasped and reached to run his hands over her breasts. The laces were only just untied, the breeches just halfway down his legs, when he pushed her hands away so that he could pull her chemise off. Alistair then leaned down to pull off his boots, but Jessimyn placed her hand on his chest and pushed him backwards onto the chair. He looked up at her in surprise, and she moved to straddle him.

She hovered over him for just a moment, only barely touching him. Jessimyn could feel the heat rising from his body, and she could only imagine that the wild look she saw in his eyes was mirrored in her own. Alistair ran his hands up and down her sides as Jessimyn reached down to guide him inside her. He groaned, pressing his lips against her throat. Resting her hands on his shoulders, Jessimyn thrust her hips forward, rocking against him. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her up and down on top of him. But it was when he moved a hand across her stomach, then down to where their bodies were joined that she could hold on no more. Jessimyn cried out, arching her back as her whole body tensed. When she was finally able to catch her breath, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him.

"Don't stop now," Alistair gasped, his fingers digging into her sides.

Jessimyn bit his neck playfully before leaning back again, thrusting against him harder and harder. She watched him as his climax overtook him, and then he was the one wrapping his arms around her, crushing her to him. His skin felt like fire against hers. They held onto each other for a while, and Jessimyn could feel that his heart was beating as rapidly as hers. Alistair touched her cheek, running his thumb over her lips. Jessimyn took his thumb into her mouth, sucking on it while he watched her. After a while, her legs began to ache, so she shifted, moving so that she was sitting across his lap. Keeping her arms around him, Jessimyn ran her fingers through Alistair's hair as he bit at her neck. His hands found their way to her breasts, and he ran his fingers over them lightly before tickling her sides. She let out a rumble of a laugh, and his arms tightened around her waist.

"I love you, Jess," he said, and she felt a wild thrill go through her. "I don't care if I shouldn't. I don't care if everyone thinks it's wrong. The Maker really may strike me down with lightning this time, but I love you."

"I love you, too," she said, and then he was kissing her again with a crazed urgency.

He pulled back, an almost surprised look on his face, and she felt something pressing against her leg. "I think... I think I'm ready for more... if you are."

As he said that, Jessimyn realized that she was also eager to continue. She stood, smiling as Alistair struggled to remove his boots and breeches the rest of the way. Once they, too, were tossed aside, she took his hand, pulling him towards the bedchamber.

"You should be naked more often," he observed as he followed her into the room. "I don't think I ever really got to appreciate how beautiful your body is, being stuck in that tiny tent."

Jessimyn laughed softly, tugging on his arm. When she got close to the bed he grabbed her around the waist. Alistair pressed his chest to her back, rubbing his erection on her backside. He wrapped his arms around her to grab at her breasts as she leaned into him. Alistair bit down hard on her neck, and she let out a yelp, which only caused him to bite her again, sucking at her tender skin. Alistair took a step back, running his hands over her back and bottom before pushing her forward to lean against the bed. She leaned on her elbows, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. Jessimyn spread her legs a little as his fingers groped between them.

"Well, you're all a mess, aren't you?" Alistair growled, and then he was thrusting inside her. Jessimyn cried out, and the tiny, rational part of her mind that still seemed to be working was suddenly very grateful that her bedroom shared no walls with anyone else's. Where always they'd tried to stay so quiet, to spare their traveling companions the embarrassment of having to hear them, now they held nothing back. Her gasps grew louder and louder, which only seemed to fuel his excitement. With one hand, he held onto her for balance while he wrapped the other one around her, his fingers between her legs. Jessimyn slid a hand under her stomach, moving his hand so that it was in the right place, so that he was applying just enough pressure to carry her over the edge. She moaned, burying her face in her blankets as she pushed herself back against him. Alistair thrust with an almost violent urgency, and he groaned loudly when he finally collapsed on top of her.

A low laugh rumbled through his chest, once he finally caught his breath. "Well," Alistair said. "We still didn't quite make it to the bed, but at least we're fully undressed this time."

He gripped her hips as he slowly slid out of her, and Jessimyn let out a soft sigh. He gave her a playful swat on the bottom, and she moved up onto the bed. Alistair quickly climbed up beside her. They lay on their sides, facing each other, and Alistair slowly traced a finger around her breasts. "I've told you before that you make me crazy," he said. "But Maker's breath, woman. What are you doing to me? That was amazing, and yet I feel like I could be ready for more, if you give me a few minutes."

Jessimyn kissed him. "You're doing the same to me," she said. "I feel like I should be exhausted after that, but..." She kissed him again, then she gasped as he pinched her nipple. Every inch of her body seemed to tingle, and Alistair's hands all over her only seemed to intensify it.

Alistair pinched her again, harder this time, and Jessimyn was surprised by how much she liked it. He'd always been a gentle, passionate lover, but his new aggressiveness was only heightening her arousal. Not gently, Alistair pushed her onto her back and pinned her arms down at her sides. He leaned forward and bit her shoulder and neck as she squirmed beneath him. She managed to get her arms free, but then he grabbed her wrists, holding her hands down above her head with one hand as the other ran up and down her body. With a shift of his hips, he was inside her again. Jessimyn wrapped her legs around him, and he released her hands to keep his balance. They seemed to move as one, as she lifted her hips up to meet each thrust. After a while, they began to slow, some of the urgency starting to melt away. Jessimyn trailed her fingernails lightly down his back, causing Alistair to shiver.

"Maker," he said, and she felt him shudder against her. He lay panting atop her for a while. A grin on his face, Alistair ran the tip of his tongue from Jessimyn's ear down the side of her neck before biting at her throat. In a quick movement, he rolled off to her side, then drew his hand up her thigh to rest between her legs. He thrust his fingers in and out as he leaned down to take a nipple between his teeth. He'd always been good with his hands, and the tiny circular movements he made with his thumb had her crying out.

As Jessimyn tried to catch her breath, Alistair reached to brush a stray hair from her face. He propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes roaming over her body. She scooted closer to him, and he put his arms around her, holding her close. He kissed her once, twice... she quickly lost count. Their tongues danced against each other. Alistair sighed softly against her lips, then pressed kisses up the side of Jessimyn's face.

"I don't ever want to leave," he whispered into her hair.

But it was with those words that reality came crashing in. Alistair _would_ have to leave, and sooner than either of them wanted. Neither of them said it, but Jessimyn knew they both felt it, and they instinctively held each other tighter. Jessimyn closed her eyes, and she felt him press a soft kiss to her forehead. She tilted her head up, brushing her lips against his.

"For just a little while longer," she said. "Let's pretend you don't have to."


	23. Fergus Chapter 23

*THUMP THUMP*

*THUMP THUMP*

Fergus groaned and rolled over. That was his sign that something was wrong. He climbed out of bed, groping for a tunic and breeches. Not for the first time, we was glad he'd had Jenya take his parents' old room, once Bryce was born. They couldn't try for another child for another six months at least anyway, so there was no point sharing a bed. He peered at the window. It was still dark outside, and he had no idea what time it was. Once he was dressed, he yelled, "Come!"

The door to his bedchamber opened a crack, and Daynin slipped in. "What's wrong?" Fergus demanded. "And what time is it?"

"Three hours until sunrise, Your Grace. Some of the king's servants are about, and I heard one remark that His Majesty hasn't been back to his room yet."

Fergus had told Daynin to keep his ears open that night, to listen for any talk, and apparently for good reason. "Andraste's tits," Fergus muttered under his breath. "Get my boots," he said as he went to the looking glass to smooth down his hair. Once he was dressed, he went into his sitting room. "Check the hall," he told Daynin, and the man went out of the room.

A few minutes later, he came back in. "There is no one about, Your Grace."

Fergus went into the hall and knocked softly on his sister's door. When there was no answer, he knocked again, a little louder. As there was still no answer, he tried the doorknob. Locked. He went back into his own sitting room. "Daynin," he said. "Keys."

The manservant brought him a ring of keys, and after a moment, Fergus located the one he wanted. "Check the hall," he said to Daynin, who left and returned to tell him the hallway was still vacant. Fergus went back to Jessimyn's door, unlocked it, and quietly opened the door to peek inside. There was no sign of either of them, which was good. He certainly didn't want to walk in on anything.

Fergus looked around the room, first noticing the clothing strewn about. Yes, the king was definitely still there. He collected Alistair's things. It was then that he noticed the bottle of brandy. There was very little missing from it. Certainly they both ended up with a larger than normal dose of the satyrion, but not by much, considering how full the bottle still was. He almost laughed. Apparently they hadn't needed very _much_ encouragement. Still, it shouldn't have been enough to make the fools fall asleep afterwards. The king had left Fergus' sitting room six hours earlier, after all. Surely they weren't still… Maker, he hoped not. He tucked the king's clothes under his arm and knocked on the bedroom door. At first there was no sound from the other side, but when he pounded on the door, he heard movement. A moment later, it opened, just a crack.

Jessimyn stood there in a long chemise, squinting into the light. "Fergus. What are you doing here? What do you want?"

The door opened in such a way that the bed was not visible, but she still stood so as to block any view he might have of her bedroom. Silly girl.

"What do I want? Hmm, let me think. Oh yes. I wanted to tell you that now might be a good time for the king to return to his own room. The sun will be up soon enough, and we don't want talk, do we?"

She was almost convincing when she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," he said, handing her Alistair's things. Her eyes widened a little as the king's clothing was pushed into her hands. He smiled at her. "I'll be in the hall," he said and left to go stand near his own door.

It was only a few minutes later when Alistair exited Jessimyn's rooms. Fergus had expected him to try to slink away like a whipped dog, but the king actually looked him in the eyes and walked over to him. Fergus smiled and was actually a little impressed that he didn't cower at being caught in the act, so to speak. "Your Majesty. Please give my apologies to your lovely wife for keeping you so long. We were having such a good time, drinking together in my sitting room, that the time must have gotten away from us."

"Yes," said Alistair, his eyes wary. "It must have, indeed."

Just then there were footsteps coming from down the hall, and Fergus let out a loud laugh. "Oh yes, I'll have to remember that one," he said as he slapped Alistair on the shoulder, making sure that the guardsmen who walked in heard him. Fergus let himself seem startled by the man's appearance. "Good man, what time is it?"

The guardsman seemed almost frightened to find the teyrn and the king standing there. "It, uh.. it's just a couple hours until sunrise, Your Grace. Your Majesty." He bowed, then looked about, unsure as to whether he should stay or go.

"Maker," said Fergus, trying not to overdo it. "Is it really that late? Forgive me for keeping you so long, Your Majesty."

At least Alistair wasn't a complete fool, and he played along. "Not at all, Your Grace," he said. "I must say, I enjoyed myself." No, not a fool at all.

Fergus addressed the guardsman again. "Escort the king back to his room."

The guardsman bowed again and followed Alistair down the hall. Fergus waited until he couldn't see or hear either of them, and then he went back into Jessimyn's rooms. She wasn't in the sitting room, so he knocked on her bedchamber door. She flung it open, this time with a robe tied loosely around her waist. She crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Perhaps you would join me out here?" Fergus asked, amused by her apparent anger.

She obviously didn't want to, but she followed him into the sitting room anyway. However, when she went to pour herself a drink, Fergus snatched the bottle of brandy from her hands and set it on another table, away from her. An expression of surprise crossed her face, and he shook his head. "I think you've probably had enough for one night, don't you?"

She actually growled at him and threw herself into a chair. As he sat down next to her, she quirked her lips, almost into a smile. "Uh, Fergus?"

"Yes, Jess?"

Her expression was almost wicked. "You may not want to sit there."

Fergus grimaced and immediately changed seats. Jessimyn turned her head away from him. "Come now, my sweet sister. There's no reason to look so sullen. Pouting isn't really your style."

She sat up in her chair. "I'm not pouting," she said. "I'm just wondering what you want, and when you're going to leave so I can go back to bed."

"Of course," he said with mock sympathy. "You must be exhausted, after all."

"Right. Good night, Fergus," she said and stood up.

"Wait, Jess. I came here to do more than tease you, although I'll admit that part is fun." She just stood, looking down her nose at him. "Oh, sit back down. This will only take a minute. I'm tired, too, after all." Once she was again seated, he continued. "The king spent the evening in _my_ rooms tonight," he said. "We got to drinking and lost track of time. You know how these things happen. In fact, one of the guards happened to walk into the hallway just in time to see the king leaving my room, or at least that's how it would have appeared to him, and I'm sure that's how he'll tell the story to anyone who will listen."

"Why are you doing this?" She asked.

"You would prefer people found out the truth? Of course not, no more than I would. It's a simple, plausible story, one that might get him in a little trouble with his wife, but certainly not as much as if she knew what he'd _really_ been doing tonight."

Jessimyn straightened, rolling her shoulders back at the mention of Lyrina. She didn't look guilty, though. That was good. "And how exactly did you know… Certainly you haven't been up all this time." She peered at him. "Why did you come looking for him now. And why here?"

"Well, I _did_ ask him to check on you last night." Fergus gave her an apologetic look. "I _am_ sorry for what I said, and I was worried about you. I know you two are… close, and I hoped he might be able to comfort you." He couldn't help himself, and he grinned. "I guess he was able to do more than that." She started to sputter, and he held his hands up. "I tease, I'm sorry. It's what older brothers do." When she quieted, he said, "Daynin was up and heard some of the servants mentioning that the king hadn't gone back to his bedroom, so he came to me, worried for the king's safety."

"And so you just assumed he'd be here?"

Fergus raised his eyebrows. "Assumed _correctly_ that he'd be here, yes. Lucky for you both that I did. Imagine what would have happened otherwise, when the sun came up and the king was nowhere to be found. That would have been harder to fix, don't you think? They'd suspect foul play, we'd have to call a search, and then there would be guardsmen everywhere."

Jessimyn sighed and rubbed her eyes. Fergus reached to pat her on the head. "There, there. You know I don't judge you. In fact, I'm happy for you. For both of you. I know what you mean to each other. You love him, and he loves you."

A slight blush rose to her cheeks, and she said, "But he's married, Fergus."

"Yes, and the carpet in this room is green. All facts, but not one having anything to do with the other two. I am also married, but would you fault me for doing the same, were I in his position? Of course not, because you want me to be happy. The same as I want for you, Jess."

She rolled her head from side to side and stood up again. "I'm going to bed now, Fergus. I really am tired, and I'm not sure I can deal with this conversation just now. We can continue it later, if you truly insist on it, but I'd prefer not."

Nodding, Fergus stood up. He grabbed the bottle of brandy, then turned as Jessimyn started to go back into her bedchamber. "Oh, and Jess?"

She sighed. "Yes, Fergus?"

"I do hope you have some high-necked dresses. Those marks on your neck aren't likely to go away any time soon." She flushed, her hands going to her throat. Fergus couldn't help but laugh. "Our king does seem to be enthusiastic, I'll say that about him." He ducked out the door before she had time to respond.


	24. Alistair & Jessimyn Chapter 24

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's a POV change in the middle of this chapter, since I decided to add a little Alistair to the beginning. I hope no one minds too much. Also, sorry it's up so late today._

_~***~_

_ALISTAIR_

Alistair walked quickly down the hall to his own rooms, his mind buzzing. The guardsman following behind him nearly had to run to catch up, and the king didn't say a word to him. When he got to his door, the guard standing there straightened at his approach, then dropped into a low bow.

"Your Majesty," he mumbled, though Alistair saw the man's eyes flicker to the guardsman following behind him. Good. Let them talk.

Once he was inside, he slumped into a chair and put his face in his hands. They'd been sleeping so peacefully when they'd been awoken by the pounding on the door. Jessimyn had shushed him as she groped for a nightgown. If anyone had to find them, at least it was just Fergus, but Alistair had panicked when he heard how late it was. How had they managed to lose control like that? How had they let themselves fall asleep afterwards, for Maker's sake? He'd thrown on his clothes and rushed out of her room, and it wasn't until he was back in his own that he realized he hadn't even kissed her goodbye.

Alistair rubbed his eyes, then reached down to pull off his boots. The image of her straddling him in her chair suddenly filled his mind, and he actually whimpered. He wanted nothing more than to be back in her room, to have her a few more times before morning. The knowledge that he would have been able to do such made Alistair laugh softly. No other woman would ever have such an effect on him, he knew. Surely she would agree now that they belonged together, in whatever way it might be possible.

Then the realization of what they'd said to each other hit him. Jessimyn had told him she still loved him. That was more exciting to him than anything else that had happened in her rooms. Well... or at least equally as exciting. He'd known he still had feelings for her, that they were still as strong as they'd always been, when he saw her on the bluffs, but he wasn't sure what she thought of him. Alistair had been afraid she'd gotten over her feelings for him, especially knowing she'd spent months alone with Zevran. That still made him feel a little green, but he pushed those thoughts aside.

Alistair removed the rest of his things before pulling on a nightshirt and moving into the bedchamber. The thought of climbing into bed with Lyrina made his skin crawl, but he had no other options.

"What time is it?" She mumbled as he settled in beside her.

"Late. Go back to sleep." Alistair winced at his own harsh tone, but the queen just rolled over and was soon snoring softly beside him.

When he woke up a few hours later, the sun was streaming through the windows, and Lyrina was already gone. The was a tray of fruit and cheese left for him in the sitting room, which he assumed meant that he'd missed breakfast. That was probably for the best, he realized when he saw himself in the mirror. He needed to get the insipid grin off his face before someone saw him and wondered what was wrong with him. Still, he wanted to see Jessimyn as soon as he could.

However, she was nowhere to be found. He wanted to ask after her, but Alistair was afraid that would be too obvious. He knew he could have asked Fergus, but that would have been blatant. The man knew too much of their private lives as it was. Besides, Alistair didn't even know how Jessimyn felt about what had happened between them. Considering all they'd shared, surely she didn't... regret what had happened. He hoped. But that hope started dwindling away when he didn't see or hear from her at all that day, or the next. And then it was time to leave. At least she was still going with them, at least she would once again be with him in Denerim. Why, then did he have the miserable feeling that everything was spoiled?

_~***~_

_Jessimyn_

Jessimyn saw Leliana making her way towards her, and she wished she could hide. She'd been dreading this moment since that morning. It was the evening of the second day on the road back to Denerim. The previous few days had been lost in a blur of packing and preparations, and Jessimyn had been trying to keep a low profile. The bruises on her neck and shoulders had faded slightly, from a bright purple to a duller red, but they were still very visible, and anyone who saw them would know exactly what they were. While still in Highever, she'd managed to conceal the marks with her hair or a scarf, when she even left her rooms, but they were traveling now, and she was in armor. She had to keep her helmet on at all times, the leather flaps hanging down around her neck. She also made sure to keep at the back of the group, so there would be as few eyes on her as possible.

The problem was that she had no way to hide them while she was sleeping, and Jessimyn and Leliana were sharing a tent. She'd awakened that morning to Leliana standing over her, eyes wide. "What's that?" She'd said loudly, a wide grin on her face, and Jessimyn had urged her to be quiet. She'd learned a long time ago that tents provide a false sense of privacy. It was too easy to think that the walls kept others from hearing as well as seeing what was going on inside, but that just wasn't the case. After a rather mortifying incident in camp a few years back, when everyone had heard Jessimyn discussing a private and embarrassing topic, she'd vowed never to say anything in a tent she didn't want everyone to hear.

Once they made camp that night, Jessimyn had hoped that Leliana would be kept busy singing or telling stories. It was her plan to sneak to her tent as early as possible and feign sleep when the bard finally found her, but Jessimyn had barely finished her evening meal when Leliana grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the rest of the group. She noticed Alistair watching them as they went, which just seemed to make it all the worse.

"So," said Leliana as soon as she made sure no one was near. "You and Alistair, yes?"

Jessimyn groaned. "Haven't we had this conversation before?"

"Yes, but it was different then. It is different now."

After a quick glance over her shoulder, Jessimyn said, "I... was upset. He was there to comfort me. One thing led to another..."

"And he... chewed on your neck?" Leliana asked with a smile.

"We got a little carried away, I guess." Jessimyn laughed suddenly. "Oh, Leliana, it was like nothing I've ever experienced before. It was like the whole world went away, and it was just the two of us, and nothing else mattered. The Archdemon, along with a whole horde of darkspawn, could have been in the other room, and I don't think either of us would have noticed."

"Well, you did always say he was enthusiastic," said Leliana. "So, was it just the once, or has this been going on for a while, and you couldn't deign to tell me?"

"Well," said Jessimyn, flushing a little at her boast. "It was three times, but just the one night. But we actually... haven't spoken since."

"Well, maybe enthusiastic is not strong enough a word, then, yes?" Leliana laughed softly. "But why haven't you spoken? The queen does not watch you like she does me. I'm sure you could manage a few moments alone with him... though it sounds like you might need more than just a _few _moments."

Jessimyn shook her head, her expression somber. "I don't even know what I _would_ say to him." That was true enough. Jessimyn had spent the last few days just trying to figure out how she _felt_ about what had happened. "I thought things were difficult before, but now..." She sighed. "It's foolish for us to try to be together."

"But you love him," said Leliana.

The laugh that escaped from Jessimyn's lips was harsh. "Why does everyone seem to think that matters? Yes, I still love him, and he still loves me. We confirmed as much that night. But so what? He's the king, and I'm still a Grey Warden. We both have our duties, and they don't include each other. Oh, and he's married? No one seems too bothered by that fact."

"Does it bother _you_?" Leliana asked, and Jessimyn flinched.

"Truthfully? No. If that was the only thing standing in our way... but then, it wouldn't be. If everything else went away, I'd be his wife, not her."

"What are you going to do, then?" Leliana gave her a concerned look.

Jessimyn shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know. I just want to get back to Denerim first."

"You need to talk to him," the bard coaxed.

"Yes," said the Warden with a smile. "As soon as we both get a free moment, and no one else is around. I don't see that happening any time soon."

"Oh, allow me. I could take care of that for you." Leliana smiled at her, bouncing a little on her toes before pulling Jessimyn back to the camp.

Jessimyn went to go sit by her tent, but Leliana walked straight over to where the king and queen sat. Jessimyn saw Lyrina tense a little, but then the bard said something to her, and she relaxed. Some of the other guards moved in closer, and Jessimyn could tell by her hand gestures that Leliana was beginning a story. She watched as Alistair leaned in to say something to Lyrina. The queen nodded, and then he was walking over towards her. Well... Leliana was nothing if not efficient. Jessimyn stood as Alistair came near.

"I'm going to make a circuit of the camp. Join me." It was not a request.

Jessimyn's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Don't you have guards to do that?"

Alistair just looked at her. "Usually, yes, but they have a redhead to ogle just now, so I offered to do it. Since we need to talk anyway, you'll come with me."

"As you wish," said Jessimyn.

Once they were out of sight of the others, Alistair turned to face her. He looked very serious, but then his lips quirked into a half smile. "So I'm not sure what I think about this bold fashion statement you're making, wearing your helmet at all times. Tell me, did you do something horrendous to your hair, and you're waiting for it to grow out?"

Jessimyn could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, so she just pulled the helmet off her head. Alistair winced. "Ah, I see. I suppose I'm to blame for those?"

"Oh, no," said Jessimyn as she put the helmet back on. "Actually, I got these from Leliana. I figured, you know, since we're sharing a tent, we may as well..."

"I guess I didn't notice because I left so quickly... Look, about that..." He raked his fingers through his hair.

She gave her head a little shake. "We... don't have to talk about it, if you don't want."

The hurt look that passed across his face surprised Jessimyn. Alistair looked at her closely. "Do you regret it, then?"

With the look on his face, Jessimyn didn't think she could have told him she did even if that was true. "No," she said. "I don't regret it. In fact, I'd say that's probably the closest I've come to a perfect night. But it doesn't... change anything."

He raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't it? If our feelings for each other are just as strong as they ever were, why should we continue to fight it? Why deny ourselves what little happiness we can find?"

"Because..." she floundered. "Who we are hasn't changed. Our duties haven't changed."

"I know," he said, taking a few steps away from her to look off into the distance. "And yet..." Alistair looked back at her. "I still find myself wanting to push you up against that tree and take you right here. What can I say? That's the effect you have on me. And I know you want it just as much as I do. So why should we fight it? Do you remember what you told me, after our first night together? You said that we would be together, no matter what."

Jessimyn flinched at his words. "That's not fair, Alistair."

"You're right," he said, his voice flat. "It's not fair at all. If your feelings had changed, I might understand it. But they haven't, have they?" He moved close to her. "If you tell me right now that you don't still love me, I'll turn around and go back to camp. Is that what you want?" He moved closer.

"I want... What I want..." Jessimyn was finding it hard to think with him so close, so she took a step back.

"Tell me you don't love me, and I'll go," he said, moving with her.

She tried to shove him away, her anger flaring. "Why are you being like this?"

He caught her hands and held them to his chest. "I might ask the same of you. We share what I would consider to be the most amazing night of my life, and then you ignore me?"

"I wasn't..." She shook her head, flustered. "I mean... it _was _amazing... but I..."

Alistair gave her an impish grin. "Then tell me you _do _love me. Because either you do or you don't. I need to hear it, either way."

"I..."

He knocked the helmet off her head and put his fingers through her hair. "Tell me," he whispered hoarsely.

She swallowed and closed her eyes. He ran his lips over her ear. "Tell me," he said, so softly this time that she could only barely hear him.

"I love you," she whispered, then yelped as he bit her earlobe.

When she opened her eyes, he was grinning at her. "And I love you," he said. "So then we will do whatever we can to be together."

Jessimyn felt like her head was swimming. She pulled away from him. "That's not fair, either. You ask things of me that you yourself cannot give. Let's just pretend that I agree, that I'm willing to throw everything else away so that I can be with you. Now you tell me – how do we make that work?"

She couldn't read his face as he spoke. "You... stay in Denerim. We find time to be together. Even if I wasn't still a Grey Warden, I would have reasons for seeing you."

Jessimyn crossed her arms over her chest. "So you would have me be your bit on the side, then? The king's dirty little secret? You know secrets like that have a way of being found out. Sure, at least there's no chance of your getting any bastards on me, but still. How do you think Lyrina will feel, when she finds out?"

The words seemed to sting, and Jessimyn saw the anger bloom in his face as he grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. "I don't give a good Maker's damn what she thinks."

"You say that about the woman who will be the mother of your children?"

His grip lessened, but he did not let go. "We're still assuming that's even possible. You think we haven't been trying? Oh no, in that area, I've done my duty as the good, faithful stud horse. So if we're discussing my _wife's _feelings," He spat the word. "Then how do you think she would feel to know I have to think of _you_ half the time just so I can be with her?"

She tried to pull her arm free, but Alistair held on tighter. "You try to act as if you're so noble, as if sacrificing everything you love is your lot in life. Haven't you given up enough? Haven't you _lost _enough already? You were the one who told me that I had to look after myself, that I had to learn that everyone was just out for themselves in this world. When will _you _realize that? When will you start looking out for yourself? I know you want to be with me, so be with me, however we can make it work."

"Alistair..." she began.

"Oh, sod it all," he cut her off, pulling her roughly to him.

She should stop him, she knew. She told herself that as he kissed her, as he pushed her to the ground. She told herself that as he pushed the skirt of her armor up, as he pulled her leggings down, as he removed only as much of his own armor as was absolutely necessary. But then he was inside her, and all thoughts of stopping fled. Jessimyn held her lips together, trying to suppress her moans, as he stifled his own by pressing his mouth to her neck, though at least this time he refrained from biting. When they were spent, he lay there for only a moment before he stood up with a grunt. Alistair didn't look at her as he got back into his armor, and Jessimyn just sat there, looking up at him.

Finally, he looked down at her and let out a throaty laugh. "Apparently I _can't_ be trusted to be alone with you," he said as he helped her up.

Once she had her leggings pulled up, he drew her into an embrace, his lips warm against her ear. "I won't lose you," he whispered. "I want all of you, it's true, but I'll take whatever parts you're able to give, whenever you're willing to give them. Just know that, while I may pretend to be someone else's, I'm yours. All of me." He kissed her, and then he was gone, headed back towards camp.

Jessimyn took in a shaky breath, her head buzzing. That wasn't _quite _how she'd been expecting things to go. She touched her face, then realized she no longer seemed to have her helmet. It took a few minutes of searching through the brush before she found it and placed it back on her head. The short walk back to the camp seemed to take days, and when the campfire came into view, she saw that everyone was still gathered around it. Alistair was once again seated next to Lyrina, but his eyes followed her as she walked to her tent and crawled inside.

She quickly removed her armor, then poured some water from her canteen onto a rag to wash herself off. The night was getting cooler, and Jessimyn shivered as she pulled on a thick chemise and crawled under her blankets. She pulled her knees up, hugging them to her chest.

_Maker_, she thought to herself. _I think I'd take fighting ten Archdemons to this. At least things were simpler then. All I had to worry about was dying._


	25. Jessimyn Chapter 25

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, I want to thank everyone for the kind reviews. I love receiving them, and they keep me motivated to write. In this chapter, we have a pretty big leap forward in the timeline. I've been hesitating over whether to do it this way or not, but I think it's necessary to keep the story from getting bogged down. Hopefully this chapter will adequately explain everything, but let me know if it's lacking. Thanks for reading!_

_~***~_

The loud clacks of the practice swords rang throughout the yard. Jessimyn leaned back against the railing that surrounded the area, watching the two men spar. She kept her eyes on the fighters as she turned her head towards the man standing next to her. "Will keeps dropping his right shoulder. I thought you were going to work with him on that."

Jakob shrugged. "I can't teach someone who doesn't want to learn."

"Or he can't learn from someone who doesn't want to teach. Jakob, I know you have a high standard for these men, but they _can_ learn, if you give them a chance. Maker knows you've shown improvement over the years."

He grinned at her. "Nah, I was this perfect when you met me. That's why you fought so hard for me."

Jessimyn gave him a look. "If you're not willing to teach, I can still send you to Amaranthine, you know."

He grunted at her before turning and walking into the center of the yard. "Will! Stop dropping your damned shoulder!"

Jessimyn just sighed. It was probably all for naught, anyway. She didn't think Will really had what it took. Still, sometimes it was worth keeping some of the possibles around, just so that Jakob could improve his teaching skills. That's what Jakob had started calling them, "the possibles", and the name stuck. Every few weeks, there were more and more of them.

When Jessimyn got back into Denerim, all of the Grey Wardens were still there, at the compound. As word of their arrival had spread, men had started trickling in, men who wanted to join the illustrious Grey Wardens. The men who had come back with Jakob and Kyran were disgusted by this, turning everyone away. But once Jessimyn found out about it, she'd argued with them, telling them that they should at least give them a chance.

"That's not how it is done!" A Grey Warden named Eddron, from the Free Marches, had said. "We find our own recruits."

They'd argued back and forth for months. Then the Orlesian Wardens had shown up. The Denerim compound had suddenly become very crowded, and Jessimyn had finally convinced the bulk of them to move to Amaranthine. Jakob and Kyran had stayed in Denerim with her, along with Delmon and Vaylis, two of the Wardens from Orlais. Once the others had gone, Jessimyn began meeting with the possibles who showed up. Most of them were completely worthless, and she sent them home to their families. Some, though, had promise, and Jessimyn and the others would run them through a number of tests. Those found worthy were then sent on to Amaranthine, where they would go through the Joining. In the year and a half since she'd been back in Denerim, they'd only sent five people on, and of those, three had survived the Joining.

"I thought I might find you here."

Jessimyn turned to see Leliana walking up to her and smiled. "Well, it's usually here or in my office."

"Yes, you never come to the palace anymore," Leliana pouted.

Jessimyn hopped over the railing, and the two women walked towards the barracks. "Why would I need to visit the palace?" She grinned. "I get enough visitors here, and I don't have to get all dressed up."

The barracks consisted of three buildings, two large and one small. The kitchens and mess hall took up one of the larger buildings, while the men stayed in the other. Jessimyn had the smaller to herself. The small building had three rooms. Two she used for a bedchamber and sitting room, but she'd turned the third into an office, where she met with possibles and anyone else who came to visit.

Jessimyn and Leliana went to her sitting room. It was nowhere near as nice as what she had in Highever, or what she could have had if she stayed in the palace, but it suited her needs. "So, is this just a friendly visit, or..."

Leliana laughed. "You think I have another purpose for being here? That may be, but I do also just wish to talk."

"Well," said Jessimyn. "Let's get the business out of the way first, then."

"So serious you are. Very well. I have been given the strict task of making sure you will be at the summer festival next month. I've heard that you've previously refused to go, and that is just not acceptable."

Jessimyn shook her head. "Maker, not this again. I've already told Alistair I don't want to go. Now he sends you to pester me? Why does he want me to be there so badly?"

Leliana raised her eyebrows. "You ask this of me? Surely you would know better than I."

"You see him more often than I do," said Jessimyn.

With a grin, Leliana replied. "Ah, but you see more _of _him than I do."

Since her return to Denerim, Jessimyn had stayed pretty strictly to the Grey Warden compound. She almost never went to the palace, and certainly not for any formal occasions. Not only did it seem that everyone wanted to stare at her, but she'd had too many nobles trying to seek her favor. They apparently thought she held some sort of sway, being the sister of a teyrn and a friend of the king, besides being the Hero of Ferelden. She hated it. At least on the compound, if someone was trying to impress her, it was for a better reason. No, better to avoid such festivities all together.

Alistair, though, seemed to find many reasons to visit the compound. He liked to check out the new possibles, whenever someone showed up that wasn't immediately turned away. He seemed to be trying to make sure everyone remembered that he was still a Grey Warden. He also asked her to send word whenever she heard any news from Amaranthine. Jessimyn quickly discovered that the added benefit of having the small building all to herself was that no one could see if sometimes they moved from her office to her bedroom. Alistair's visits were sporadic, though. Sometimes he'd be by two or three times in a week, and then it might be a month before she saw him again.

Things between the two of them had not gotten any easier since their return. They seemed to argue as often as they made love, and while there was no denying the passion that was there between them, Jessimyn often found herself wondering if they weren't doing more harm than good. It was a battle she seemed to be fighting constantly, with Alistair as much as with herself, between what she wanted and what she felt was right. But both concepts were fluid, always changing.

"Is it because of the queen?" Leliana asked. "You don't like seeing them together?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jessimyn protested, though she couldn't deny there wasn't something to that.

As hard as she had tried not to have an opinion of the woman at all, Jessimyn had found she actually liked Lyrina. True, the queen was not a terribly exciting person, but she was very kind, and it seemed everyone liked her. She could also tell, whenever she saw them together, that Alistair was growing to care about her. So Jessimyn stayed away from the palace, as she considered that to be their world, a place in which she was a visitor at best, an intruder at worst. He seemed to understand this, which is why he always went to visit her at the compound.

"Oh, I don't think I'm being ridiculous at all. But this is to be a very important event. Since the Landsmeet is scheduled for a week after, all the nobles from all over Ferelden will be here. Your brother will be here..."

"I am aware of all of this," said Jessimyn. "It doesn't mean I want to be there, though. I don't want to spend hours having people fuss over me until my hair and clothing are just right. I don't want to stand all night in a crowded room, having to listen to some noble first tell me how brave he thinks I am, then how they were wronged by some other noble, and if I could just mention it to the king..." She sighed. "And no, I don't want to see them together. I feel like an intruder in their life."

Leliana continued to pout. "But what if I asked you to go for my sake? I could help you get ready? It wouldn't take... well, yes, it would probably take hours, but you don't seem to mind it when _I'm _the one fussing over you. And when was the last time you heard me perform? Let yourself have fun for one night. Flirt with all the gorgeous noblemen and make the king jealous. Drink a little too much so that someone has to help you back to your bed." She laughed merrily. "Oh, say you will. If you want, I can let you flirt with _me_ all night, and together we can make _everyone_ jealous."

Jessimyn laughed, shaking her head. "When you say it like that, it almost sounds like fun."

"Oh," said Leliana, a twinkle in her eyes. "We could have lots of fun, you and I. So I can tell the king you'll be there?"

"No, you may not," said Jessimyn, giving the bard a playful shove. "I'm not so easily tricked as that."

Leliana stuck out her bottom lip at Jessimyn, but she let it go. Instead, she began telling Jessimyn all of the latest gossip from the palace, which the Warden enjoyed hearing not because she cared about any of the nobles, but because Leliana was such a good storyteller. When it was time for her to go, the two women embraced, then Leliana went back to the palace as Jessimyn moved into her office.

She sat down and picked up one of the invoices sitting atop her desk. Alistair insisted she be the one in control over the compound's finances. Jessimyn hated it, and she was sure the king made her do it just because he knew she hated it. Well, that and the fact that whenever he came by for a visit, they inevitably ended up arguing about the price of something, and then he wanted to go back to her office to look at the figures.

A sigh escaped Jessimyn's lips as she shuffled between the various pieces of paper. They needed their own armorer, but they couldn't justify the cost. There were only the five of them there permanently, but the problems came with the possibles who would show up. Most of them didn't have decent armor of their own, and they had to make do with the mismatched sets they kept around. They'd had some injuries from ill-fitting armor that didn't quite protect what it was supposed to protect. And then there was the food. What they spent a month could feed a group three times their size, maybe more. But Grey Wardens cost more to feed than other soldiers.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Jessimyn called, all too happy to push the papers aside for a moment.

Vaylis poked his head inside her office. "There's someone out here who would like to see you, Jessimyn."

"Who is it? Another possible? It's late. Just find him a bed in the barracks, and we can run him through some training in the morning."

"He asked for you by name. Said he wanted to speak with you as soon as possible."

She sighed. "I don't have time for this right now, Vaylis."

Vaylis smiled at her. "He said it was important. Said you'd want to see him right away."

Jessimyn frowned. "I doubt that," she mumbled under her breath. "Fine. Send him in."

Vaylis nodded and went outside. This was the part she hated. At least once a month, someone came to the barracks to meet with her personally. Usually it was someone who had fought in the battle when the Archdemon was killed, someone who wanted to tell her that he had been there. They always made it seem like their visit was ever so important, and then they just gushed over her. It made her feel very uncomfortable, but she'd found early on that denying them a meeting didn't ever seem to dissuade anyone. They would just wait outside her barracks until she appeared, and then they pounced. At least in her office she had a little control over the situation.

There was another knock on the door, and Jessimyn stood up. She moved towards the door and opened it. "What can I do..." She began, but the the words fell from her mouth, only to be replaced by an enormous smile.

"Zevran!" She gasped, and threw her arms around him.


	26. Zevran Chapter 26

Jessimyn and Zevran had talked long into the night, catching up on everything that had happened in the two years since they'd seen each other last. She'd told him about her trip to Highever and what she'd been doing with the Grey Wardens since, and he filled her in on everything that had happened in Antiva after she left, which wasn't much. For the most part, Zevran had stayed out of trouble, and was still living in the basement of the whorehouse before he boarded a ship for Denerim. Finally, as they'd both grown weary, Jessimyn led him to the larger barracks, giving him a bed with the other men. As late as it was, the others were already asleep. Zevran awoke early, before most of the other men were up, and he decided he would take a look around the compound. He was checking out the practice yards the next morning when a man approached him.

"Are you another possible?" He asked.

Zevran gave him a confused look. "Another possible what?"

"Oh," said the man. "That's what they call us. Possibles. Men who want to join the Grey Wardens. I'm Will."

Zevran laughed at that. "No, I have no desire to join up with the Wardens. I'm actually an old friend of Jessimyn's."

When Jessimyn found them, Zevran and Will were sparring. Zevran wasn't sure how he'd been talked into it, but Will had been complaining that they were about to send him home. He'd boasted that he was just as good as that Jakob fellow, and that it wasn't fair.

He certainly was _not_ as good as Jakob, but Zevran found himself giving the boy pointers. When they noticed Jessimyn there, they stopped.

"Your form is looking better, Will. Have you been practicing?" She asked.

Will smiled, looking a little shy. "Actually, your... friend here showed me a few things."

Once Will was gone, Zevran turned to Jessimyn. "He's got potential. But you've had Jakob training him? Jakob is skilled but much too prideful to be a good teacher."

Jessimyn nodded, sighing. "Don't I know it. But I don't have as much time as I'd like to do it myself, and there's really no one else. The Orlesians rarely offer, and Kyran's no good at combat." She grinned suddenly. "I still can't believe you're here." She hopped up to sit on the railing that ran around the yards.

Leaning on the railing next to her, Zevran eyed the barracks. "I thought there'd be more of you here," he remarked.

"Oh, there were. Most of the Wardens in Ferelden are in Amaranthine now. There's only the five of us here, and the possibles."

"Possibles," Zevran said with a chuckle. "Men who actually seek you out. They obviously don't have enough trouble in their lives. That or they're insane."

Nudging him with her knee, Jessimyn asked, "So what does that make you?"

"Ah, but I _thrive_ on trouble, my dear. Also, I'm not asking to join your merry little band."

"That's right, I forgot," said Jessimyn in mock seriousness. "You just like to ridicule from the sides."

"From the sides, is it? I recall saving your lovely behind more than once. But it is my duty to keep you humble. With all this hero business, I don't want you getting a big head," he said.

"So how long are you planning on staying in Denerim?"

Zevran shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. A while, though. I didn't just spend three months on a ship for a short visit. Of course, I'll have to find a place to stay..."

"I bet the Pearl has some nice rooms," said Jessimyn. She laughed at the look Zevran gave her. "Of course you can stay here. The men's barracks has plenty of beds, though there's not a lot of privacy."

"I'll just invite myself into your barracks, should I wish to have a private moment." He winked at her, and she laughed.

He loved to hear her laugh. It was one of the many things he'd missed about her. A woman like Jessimyn deserved to have laughter in her life, after all of the horrible things she'd been through. Zevran kept his voice casual as he said, "You know, if I'm going to be staying here, I could help out. With the training, that is. Seems like you could use the help, and I do so like to be useful."

Zevran was pleased when she quickly agreed. It was nice to know she still needed him, no matter the reason. And if it gave him an excuse to stay near her, all the better. After their talk the night before, he'd gotten the impression that she had rekindled some sort of relationship with the king, though she hadn't been very specific about what sort of relationship it was. In fact, the little bits he'd gotten out of her were things he didn't think she'd actually meant to tell. So Zevran wanted to stick around, to make sure she didn't do anything foolish. For her own sake, of course. He liked Alistair well enough, but he'd always felt like he tied her down too much. Jessimyn was the type of person who deserved to be free to live and love as she wished.

Zevran was introduced to the other possibles. There were four there currently, including Will. Zevran couldn't help but notice the looks on some of their faces when they were told he would be training him. It was a look he was used to, the _but he's an elf_ look. He suddenly felt very grateful that Jessimyn had never looked at him that way. Not that it bothered him as much as it did others. He'd gotten used to it over time. It usually even worked to his advantage. It was always better if people underestimated him. They usually learned soon enough that he was a formidable opponent.

The possibles were paired up. Zevran watched them spar as Jessimyn told him what she thought of each of them. The best by far was a man named Tivven. Jessimyn said they were planning on sending him to Amaranthine soon. The other two, Kellen and Eli, were on a level with Will. Jessimyn stayed and watched that first day, but she left him to train the men as he saw fit, after that.

It was a week later when the king showed up. Jessimyn was in her office, but Zevran was in the yards with the four possibles. Alistair had two guards trailing after him, and he didn't notice his old traveling companion at first. As Zevran approached him, the two guards took a step forward. The elf dropped into an elaborate bow, a grin flashing as he stood up. "Your Majesty," he said.

Alistair's eyes widened as recognition dawned on him. "Zevran. Maker, what... how long have you been here? I didn't know you were here." He waved the guards away, and they stepped back but didn't relax any.

The Antivan smiled. "Only a few days, Your Majesty."

Alistair grunted. "I won't have anyone calling me 'Your Majesty' who has had to go fetch me leaves in the woods before. How have you been? How _long _has it been?"

"Four years, I believe."

The king gave him a suspicious look. "You're not... training with these men, are you?"

"You mean am I one of them? One of these possibles? No, that I am not. But I've been helping out with the training."

"Oh, so you're... staying here, then? In the compound, I mean."

Zevran watched as Alistair's eyes flickered from him to Jessimyn's barracks and back again. Yes, there was definitely something going on between the two of them. Old habits were hard not to fall back into, so it was difficult not to tease him. "Yes, our beautiful friend has allowed me to stay, as long as I earn my keep. So she has chosen to put my many talents to use. I could tell that she was in desperate need of them, so when I offered, she didn't turn me down. Very practical she is, don't you think?"

"Hmm..." was all Alistair said, and Zevran did his best not to laugh.

"I believe she is in her office, if you needed to speak with her," he offered.

"I... yes, I did. I haven't had a report from her in a few weeks."

Zevran asked, "Oh, does she report to you? I was under the impression that the Grey Wardens were an independent group."

"She... of course. I am also a Grey Warden, though. I like to be made aware of any changes, anything new that might be going on," Alistair said, frowning.

So then Jessimyn hadn't told the king that Zevran was there, and it seemed Alistair wasn't too pleased about it. Zevran wasn't sure what to make of that, but seeing how it distressed the king was certainly entertaining. "Well, then, I won't delay you any further. We can catch up some other time."

Alistair just nodded, and his guards followed him to Jessimyn's barracks. Zevran noticed that the two men waited just outside the front door without having being told to do so. If only he could sneak around the back to peer in a window, to see what was going on inside. For curiosity's sake, of course. But the men had all stopped their exercises and were all looking at him expectantly now.

"You... know the king?" Will asked.

"Another old friend, yes. We all used to travel together."

Eli and Will exchanged a look before Eli asked. "So... were you with them when they killed that... Archdemon?"

With a laugh, Zevran launched into the tale. While he was not quite the storyteller that Leliana was, he kept them quite entertained for the two hours it took before Alistair exited Jessimyn's quarters, looking quite a bit perkier. Oh yes. There was definitely something there. He even stopped to speak to him again before he left.

"I have to hurry back, but it is good to see you, Zevran." There was a strange light in his eyes as he added, "You know... there's a big festival coming up, the summer festival, in a few weeks. I would be honored if you would attend."

Zevran felt like there was something to his words he wasn't saying, but he agreed. "You would like me to rub elbows with all of your nobles? Very well, I accept." Surely Jessimyn would be going as well. It would just provide more opportunity to tease the man, so how could he refuse?

Leliana came to visit the next day, and Zevran found out she'd been living in the palace as a bard. It seemed she had made quite a name for herself throughout Ferelden, and she was performer in high demand. However, it was a week after that when the real excitement began.

Zevran was in Jessimyn's office, and they were discussing Tivven. The door to the room flew open, and a man strode in with Kellen at his heels. The boy looked distressed, but Jessimyn waved him away.

"It's all right, Kellen," she said, a smile on her face.

The man only briefly glanced at Zevran before returning Jessimyn's smile. "Send your servant out," he said.

Zevran bristled, but Jessimyn put her hand on his arm. "He is not a servant. He is a dear friend of mine. And of the king's."

Zevran regarded the man, and it only took a short moment to realize who he was. With the same dark hair and piercing blue eyes that Jessimyn had, it had to be her brother. He'd heard there was going to be a Landsmeet after the festival, so it made sense that the teyrn of Highever would be in attendance.

Zevran flashed him a huge smile. "You must be Fergus."

The man wrinkled his nose, as if assaulted by a foul smell. "I am Teyrn Cousland, yes. The Lady Cousland's brother."

"Stop it, Fergus," Jessimyn chided him. "This is Zevran. I've told you about him before."

That didn't seem to help matters, and the teyrn's eyes grew even colder. "Yes, you have." But then he was all smiles again. "Still, I would have a private word with you, my dear sister."

Jessimyn gave Zevran an apologetic look. "Can we finish this conversation later, Zev?"

Zevran jumped up from where he'd been sitting and bowed with a flourish. "Of course, my dear Lady Cousland." He took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips. "I do so look forward to it."

As hard as it was to believe, Fergus actually looked even angrier at that. He was going to be even more fun to tease than Alistair. Zevran just smiled at the man before exiting the room. He thought about staying to eavesdrop, but then decided against it. It was probably better that he didn't hear the man's initial reaction to him, not if he was going to be expected to be civil to him, and for Jessimyn's sake, he would be.

When he walked outside, Kellen was talking quietly to the others, and they swarmed Zevran when they saw him.

"Was that... was that a teyrn? And he knows Jessimyn?" Elia asked.

Will's eyes were wide as he said, "She's friends with the king _and _a teyrn?"

Zevran shook his head, laughing. "He is a teyrn, yes. He's also her brother."

They all gaped at each other and began talking excitedly. They all seemed very impressed by her Cousland blood, but Zevran just shook his head and walked away. While he agreed that she was a very impressive woman, to him, her name was the least notable thing about her.


	27. Jessimyn Chapter 27

As soon as Zevran closed the door, Fergus darted forward, grabbing Jessimyn's arm. "Why was he touching you?" He demanded.

Jessimyn wrenched her arm away from him. "Why are _you_? As I said, Zevran is a dear friend of mine. You will not treat him that way. If you don't want to speak to him, I'm sure his feelings won't be hurt too badly, but don't act like he's beneath you. He's saved my life on more than one occasion."

"A dear friend, is he? How dear?"

Jessimyn laughed. "Dear enough not to be an ass to the other people in my life that I care about. Would that I could say the same about you."

They stared at each other for a moment before Fergus chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Very well. I'd appreciate it if he didn't have his hands all over you, though. It's hardly appropriate."

Jessimyn raised her eyebrows. "This coming from the person who would push me into the arms of a married man?"

Fergus smiled. "That's completely different, but let's drop it for now. I actually didn't come all the way out here to argue with you. I thought you might be interested in hearing about your new niece."

Jessimyn just crossed her arms, so Fergus continued. "We named her Lyla. She's two months old now. And absolutely beautiful. She actually looks a little like you did, when you were a baby. So of course, Jenya isn't here with me. She was sorry to have to miss the festival, but I think she's the lucky one."

Fergus gushed about his children for a while, which made Jessimyn smile. It was very apparent that he loved Bryce and Lyla, and she was reminded of how protective he'd always been of her, growing up. Sometimes it was just hard to remember that he did all of the irritating things he did because he cared about her.

He hugged her as he went to leave. "I'll probably be busy for the next few days, so I'll likely not see you until the festival."

Jessimyn groaned. "I actually wasn't planning on going..." She began, but Fergus cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"Nonsense. Of course you'll be there. It's not even open to discussion."

She had to smile, the way he acted like he still had the final say in everything she did. "We'll see," she said as she walked him out. Once he was gone, she went to find Zevran again.

He was sitting outside the men's barracks, fixing a buckle on his armor. "So that's your brother," he said without looking up.

Jessimyn sat next to him. "Yes... look, I apologize for his behavior. He means well, but sometimes he can come off as a little..."

Zevran patted her on the knee. "There's no need for that. Do not worry. It takes more than that to offend me."

They sat in silence for a while as he worked, and Jessimyn was surprised at how comfortable she still felt around him, even though they hadn't seen each other in so long. Zevran cleared his throat softly, and Jessimyn realized she'd been staring at him.

"Sorry," she said, giving her head a little shake. "I guess I was lost in thought there for a moment."

"As long as they were good thoughts. Or dirty thoughts, those are fine as well." He grinned at her. "So, is your brother here for the festival, then?"

"That and the Landsmeet," Jessimyn answered as she eyed him warily. "How did you know about the festival?"

"Alistair invited me to attend. What will your brother think of that?"

Jessimyn groaned, and Zevran gave her a surprised look. "He would do that, wouldn't he?" She asked, mostly of herself. When she saw the look on Zevran's face, she quickly added. "He's been trying to trick me into saying I'll go to that for over a month now. I've told him no three times. He already tried getting Leliana to convince me to attend, and now it looks like he's pulled you into it as well. Sneaky bastard."

Zevran laughed loudly. "That's funny, because he actually is a..." He cleared his throat, trying to give her a serious look, though the corners of his mouth kept trying to inch upwards.

She sighed. "I guess I don't have much of a choice in the matter. Leliana is already planning on showing up early that morning to get me ready for it, whether I want her to or not."

Leaning in so that his shoulder brushed hers, Zevran said, "That sounds like a big job. Perhaps I'll lend a hand as well. You may need assistance with laces or buttons or other such things. Though I will admit, I'm better with helping you take such things off than putting them on."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a laugh.

On the morning of the festival, Jessimyn was awakened by her blankets being torn off her bed. She immediately pulled her feet up. "Hey," she muttered.

"Get up, get up," Leliana called.

Jessimyn pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Maker, Leliana. What are you doing here? The sun's barely up."

"Oh, the sun has been up for hours! It's time to start getting ready."

Jessimyn groaned. "Your worse than Jenya. Leave me alone."

"Up, up! There's so much to do. I have to get myself ready as well, you know. And it's so much more fun to do it together. Come on. First you have to eat, and then you need a bath."

Jessimyn allowed herself to be dragged to the kitchens, where Leliana wouldn't let her have anything but tea and toast. Then they had to haul water for baths. The bathhouse had a number of large, copper tubs, but water had to be heated first, which took a long time. While they waited, Leliana examined and discarded nearly every dress Jessimyn owned.

"Don't you have anything pretty?" Leliana complained.

With a shrug, Jessimyn replied. "I just polished my armor the other day..."

Leliana had actually laughed in her face at that! But then she was being dragged back to the bathhouse. Zevran caught up with them on the way, a wicked grin on his face.

"So the talk at breakfast this morning was that you two are going to bathe together. May I be of any help? I could wash your hair for you. Scrub your backs? Jess knows how helpful I can be at bath time."

Jessimyn groaned, but Leliana just grabbed onto her arm, pulling her away. "We have no time for such things, Zev." Then she winked at him. "Maybe _after_ the festival, yes?"

Leliana filled the tubs with all sorts of perfumed oils, and she had even more for their hair and skin. When they finally finished, their skin glowed pink, and their hair shone. Then it was back to the barracks, for Leliana to sigh over Jessimyn's dresses again. After at least an hour of looking at the same pieces over and over again, Jessimyn threatened her.

"If you don't pick something in the next ten minutes, I'm wearing that one." She pointed to a modest, grey dress that Leliana had discarded first thing.

The bard squealed. "No, you cannot wear that one! Fine, here. This one will do, I suppose."

Leliana held up a deep, red dress. It was one Jessimyn had brought back with her from Antiva, a gift from Bella, but she'd never worn it. It was made entirely of silk. The skirt was full, but the top was cut low and wide to hang off her shoulders. There were no sleeves, but there was a matching corset that was made to be worn on top of the dress. It was also of red silk, with pearls sewn all along the edges.

"Is that even a dress?" Jessimyn protested. "I think you're supposed to wear a dress on _top_ of that. I don't have a chemise I could even wear under the thing."

Leliana clapped her hands together. "Then you'll have to go without! The corset is tight enough that you shouldn't be flopping about."

It took a long time to get laced into the dress, and it was a little difficult to breath. "Are you sure it's supposed to be this tight?"

"Of course it is," said Leliana, holding up a small mirror. "See how lovely your breasts look? And that tiny waist!"

Jessimyn swatted her on the arm. "I see why you wouldn't let me have breakfast now."

Poking her finger in Jessimyn's face, Leliana warned, "And you can't drink too much. Well, you can, but when you take it off, it will go straight to your head. You'd hate to have some gorgeous nobleman peel your clothes off, only to get sick on him, wouldn't you?"

Jessimyn finally got to rest a little as Leliana dressed. The bard had chosen a bright blue, fitted dress with embroidery down the sleeves. It was so low-cut it was almost indecent. Then it was on to their hair. Leliana fixed her own first, in the way she always seemed to wear it, although she did weave a tiny ribbon through her braid. However, simple was not what she had in mind for Jessimyn.

"I want to tell you again how happy I am you have kept it long," she said as she brushed Jessimyn's hair. She let a few strands hang down in the front, but the rest was worked into tiny braids which she coiled together at the nape of her neck.

Jessimyn couldn't believe how late it was when they were finally ready. "How did we just spend the entire day doing nothing but getting dressed?"

Leliana laughed. "Let's step outside and see if all of my efforts have been worth it."

It was late afternoon, so it was too hot for the men to be practicing. Most of them were sitting beneath a large shade tree that grew between the men's barracks and the kitchens. As Jessimyn and Leliana exited the small barracks, all conversations they'd been having ceased, and every head turned to look at them.

"I think some of these men just realized you're a woman," Leliana whispered to her. "Wait here. I'll go get Zevran." She was gone before Jessimyn could say a word.

Jessimyn stood there awkwardly. She didn't mind being dressed up, but she was standing outside in something that didn't seem to be much more than a nightgown, in front of the men who were supposed to see her as their leader. None of them said anything to her, but they would glance at her, then whisper to each other.

Finally, Leliana and Zevran joined her. Zevran was wearing tight black breeches and a tight black doublet over a light grey shirt. He offered them both an arm. "How lucky I am, to escort the two most ravishing beauties in all of Ferelden."

On their way to the palace, they passed quite a few people in their best clothes. The festival was celebrated throughout the city, not just in the palace, and a number of people had long tables set out for their own feasts. When they finally got to the palace, it was already crowded, and the feast was about to begin. She was dismayed to learn she was to sit at high table, next to Fergus, in the spot that would have been Jenya's. She envied Leliana and Zevran, who sat about halfway back, in the middle of the hall.

At least she was not the only woman scandalously dressed. Apparently it was considered to be permissible to show a little extra skin, at the summer festival. When she'd gone up to join her brother, Fergus had told her how lovely she looked, but it was Alistair's eyes she could feel boring into her. At least Fergus was sitting between them, so he could not look at her during the meal, unless he craned his neck.

When the dinner was over, the crowd moved into the large gathering hall for drinks and dancing, and whatever else people felt like doing. Jessimyn immediately hunted down Zevran and Leliana.

"All right, we came. Can we go now, please?"

Leliana just shook her head. "And deny all these hungry noblemen the chance at getting their hands on you? I think not."

As Jessimyn was trying to think of a reply, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she found Teagan standing there. It took all of her willpower not to groan aloud.

"Hello again, Jessimyn," he said as he brushed her arm with his fingers in an all too familiar way. "Would you like to dance?"

"Oh, I don't..." she began, but Leliana gave her a little shove.

"She would love to!" The bard exclaimed.

As he led her out to where the other couples were already dancing, Jessimyn glared at Leliana and mouthed _I hate you_.

"I had hoped I might see you tonight," Teagan whispered to her.

"Well... here I am." Jessimyn shifted in his arms, trying to keep him from holding her so close.

"Yes... here you are," he repeated while very blatantly looking at her breasts.

As soon as she could, Jessimyn escaped back to her friends.

"You're right," Zevran was saying to Leliana. "That one looked so hungry, I thought he was going to take a bite out of her right there in front of everyone."

The next few hours were a blur. As usual, she found herself at the center of attention, but after a few drinks, she found she didn't mind quite so much. After Teagan, she danced with Fergus, then Lyrina's father, Teyrn Wulff. After that, she had a few more drinks and danced with Zevran, then with Leliana, then with Zevran again, much to her brother's dismay. At that point she lost track, of how much she drank as well as of the men who asked her to dance. It was late when she heard a very familiar voice whisper in her ear.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to dance with me now?"

Jessimyn shivered as Alistair's hot breath tickled her neck, and she turned to face him. "I would be honored, Your Majesty," she said.

If Leliana thought the other noblemen looked hungry, then Alistair looked ravenous. She thought his hand was going to burn a hole through her dress, as he held her a little too close, his hand just a little too low on her back. Luckily, it was very crowded, and most of the people there were well into their cups at that point, so no one really paid attention as he leaned in close to whisper to her.

"Do you know how hard it is not to have my hands all over you? How hard it's been to watch all these other men touching you?"

Jessimyn felt very bold all of a sudden, and she leaned into him, brushing up against the front of him. "No. Tell me. How... hard... is it?"

A low rumbling sound came from the back of his throat. "Do you think anyone would notice if we were to... slip away for a while?"

Jessimyn laughed lightly. "Yes, I think quite a few people would notice, actually. One such person being our lovely queen."

Alistair's hands tightened on her, but he made no reply. She could tell she'd made him angry, but right then she didn't care. He made her come to this silly festival, he put Leliana up to getting involved, so it served him right if he felt jealous. After all, how often had he put her in such a situation, where she had to watch him and Lyrina together. When the song ended, he tried to hold onto her for just a moment longer, but she just laughed and slid away, though she let her hand accidentally brush against his backside.

When she finally had a moment, Jessimyn went to find Leliana. She and Zevran were laughing about something, and when she joined them, Zevran handed her a glass of wine. Another woman who happened to be walking past turned to glare at them, which they all seemed to find even more funny.

"How sad," she said. "When they let commoners and soldiers and elves mix with nobles."

"Hmm... commoners and soldiers and elves, is it?" Zevran chuckled. "Well, I know which one I am."

The woman crossed her arms. She was not an attractive woman, with eyes too far apart and a beak of a nose. "Do not mock me, elf," she said.

"Oh, don't be jealous because I'm prettier than you," he said, and the woman stomped off in a huff.

"Who was that?" Jessimyn asked.

Leliana giggled. "That's the queen's sister, Nyessa."

Jessimyn was shocked. "That creature is related to Lyrina? Well, I suppose I can understand why she's bitter, seeing as her sister got all the beauty in the family. And not only that. She... why are you looking at me like that?"

Zevran and Leliana were both wide-eyed. A giggle came from behind Jessimyn, and she turned around to see Lyrina standing there.

"Oh, Maker," she muttered. "I apologize, Your Majesty, I didn't mean..."

"It's quite all right, Lady Cousland," she said, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "I never much cared for her myself." She giggled again, and then she was off.

Jessimyn gaped after her, and Leliana said, "I think she's had almost as much to drink as we have."

When people finally started leaving, it was close to dawn. Leliana bid them a good night as she went off to her rooms, and Jessimyn had to hold onto Zevran for support as he led her out of the palace. She noticed both Fergus and Alistair glaring at how Zevran had his arms around her. Well, let them glare.

It took longer than normal to get back to the compound, but at least all the men were fast asleep. Zevran helped her to her barracks, and she stumbled about, trying to light a lamp. When she finally got it lit, she turned to find Zevran staring at her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

She had expected him to make a joke, but he said nothing. "Well, if you're not going to talk, at least make yourself useful. Unlace me."

He hesitated a moment, but then he was moving over to her. Zevran placed his hands gently on her shoulders and turned her around. She felt his fingers lightly brushing against her back as the corset got looser, and she shivered as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"You're a... good friend," she said softly, and he grunted. "The best," she added. "And Zev?" She turned to face him, and he looked at her expectantly. However, just then Leliana's words from earlier in the night came back to her as she felt her head swim. She put her hand to her face. "Oh, Maker. I think..."

The world seemed to lurch.

"I think I need to sit down..."


	28. Jessimyn Chapter 28

Jessimyn shifted in her bed, wincing as the sunlight hit her face. She pulled the blankets up over her aching head, wondering what happened to wake her. Then she heard her door close and realized there had been a knock. She burrowed deeper under her covers.

"Leliana, if that's you, I'm going to kill you."

The chuckle that came from the intruder in her room was much too deep to be Leliana's. She peeked out to see Alistair standing there, an all too amused look on his face. She groaned and hid her face again.

"Go away," she said. "What are you doing here so early?"

"It's not early. It's after lunch. I thought for sure you'd be up by now." He leaned against a table, grinning at her.

Jessimyn slowly sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head. She suddenly realized she didn't remember getting into bed the night before. A quick check under her blanket revealed that she wearing a nightgown. Her dress was lying across a chair. She remembered that Zevran had been there, but she couldn't remember what had happened after he... helped her out of her dress. Oh, Maker.

"Why are you blushing?" Alistair asked. "You're not feeling shy all of a sudden are you?"

"Maybe I should be, if I look even half as bad as I feel." She pulled her blankets around her shoulders. "Was there something you needed?"

"Oh yes," Alistair said in a husky voice as he went to sit next to her on the bed. "Although it's more of a someone than a something."

"Why don't you come back when I've had a chance to sleep a little more. And get dressed. And brush my hair. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week." Jessimyn reached up to rub her neck. "Apparently I should have taken my hair down before I fell asleep."

Alistair immediately reached up to begin undoing some of the tiny braids. "Did I tell you last night how pretty you looked." When Jessimyn quirked her lips at him, he laughed. "Not that you're not always pretty, of course. But last night..."

"Would it ruin it to know that Leliana spent _hours_ on me?"

Alistair shook his head. "Not at all. I know I'd like to spend hours on you, if I could." He laughed, but it sounded nervous. There was something going on...

Jessimyn gave him a suspicious look. "Is that so?"

He didn't say anything as he continued with her hair. When he finished, he rubbed her shoulders gently, one of his hands dropping down to squeeze a breast before moving back up. "So it seems you were a hit last night." His voice was much too casual.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked as she tilted her head down, stretching her neck.

"You seemed to cause a stir. Everyone is naturally fascinated by you, so of course the fact that you showed up to an event with every noble in attendance, one you came only half-dressed to, I might add, well... it's bound to cause some talk."

Jessimyn groaned. "Maker's breath. Now you see why I avoid those things?"

Alistair laughed. "In fact, I overheard Teagan talking to Eamon about you. He had quite a few... complimentary things to say."

His words were tinged with jealousy, so Jessimyn decided to try and change the subject. She certainly didn't want to talk about Teagan, after all. "Well, I know of at least one person there who wasn't 'taken with me', as you put it."

"Oh?" His hands moved up to rub her neck.

"Lyrina's sister. Nyessa, was it? A rather nasty woman, I must say, although I'm afraid the queen may have overheard me saying as much. She didn't seem too upset at the time, but..."

"Nor will she be, I'm sure. They don't get along," Alistair explained. "Apparently there's been quite a lot of animosity between them since they were children."

His hands paused in their work, and they both seemed to realize at the same time that they were sitting in bed together, discussing Alistair's wife. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well... other than that, it seemed like you were... enjoying yourself." He resumed rubbing her neck with one hand while the other trailed lightly down her back and around her waist to rest on her upper thigh.

"I... suppose I did," said Jessimyn, wary of where the conversation was going.

"And you seemed to have made it back here in one piece..."

Jessimyn squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the next question that she knew would come.

"And it seemed like Leliana was enjoying herself, too... Zevran as well..." He forced a laugh, as though pretending that a thought had just come to him. "You know, I don't think your brother much appreciated Zevran being there with you. He seemed a little upset by the idea."

"He's not terribly fond of him, no," Jessimyn replied, keeping her voice neutral.

"Ah, so you've... discussed Zevran with your brother, then?"

Jessimyn groaned loudly and turned around to face him, and Alistair drew his hands back to clasp in his lap. "If you're trying to be subtle, Alistair, it's not working. If you have something you want to ask me, I suggest you just come out with it. Although I probably won't answer, since what you're likely going to ask is none of your business."

Alistair opened his mouth to respond, but the door swung open, cutting him off. Zevran strolled in, a large grin on his face.

"Don't you knock?" Jessimyn asked, at the same time that Alistair demanded, "How did you get past my guards?"

"There are other ways in here than through the front door," said Zevran. "And your guards are not terribly observant. As for knocking, well... I forgot? I just wanted to check on you. You were quite exhausted when I finally put you to bed last night." He gestured to her dress. "I didn't know what you wanted to do with that, so I just laid it over the chair. I hope that's fine?"

Jessimyn sighed as she watched Alistair tense up, balling his hands into fists. "I'm fine, thank you, Zev. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

The assassin just smiled. "Of course. Later tonight, then," he said with a wink, and then he was out the door.

"I guess I don't have to ask after all," Alistair said quietly, once Zevran was gone.

Jessimyn clenched her jaw. "Alistair, stop it. I had too much to drink last night. Zevran helped me home. Nothing happened... I don't think. But even if it did, so what?"

"You don't _think_ anything happened? You don't know? Because it seemed like Zevran knew." He stood up, taking a few steps toward the door before turning to face her.

Jessimyn shook her head at him. "You have no right to demand such information of me. Do I ask you whose bed you slept in last night? Do I ever try to make you feel guilty about what you do with someone else? I don't, because I have no right to."

"That's different," Alistair said, glowering at her.

"No, it's no different at all." She stood up and strode up to him. "Do not ask of me more than you are able to give."

He looked away, running his hand through his hair. "So you're... sleeping with him, then? I just... I need to know."

"Am I right at this moment? No, I am not." Jessimyn crossed her arms over her chest.

Alistair gave her an exasperated sigh. "You know what I mean."

Jessimyn arched an eyebrow at him. "Would you like my entire history, then? Let's see, I suppose I should start at the beginning. I was sixteen, and he was twenty-five. A knight who was a friend of my brother's, though when Fergus found out about it..."

"Stop!" Alistair gave her a choked look. "I... don't want to hear this."

"You're right, you don't." She glared at him for a moment, but she softened at the anguished look on his face. "Look, Alistair... you know you're not the only man I've ever been with. You also know that sex doesn't mean the same thing to me that it does to you. I don't have to be in love to sleep with someone. In fact, it's only ever happened that way once. But if my history is too much for you, if you can't handle that, then..." She couldn't make herself finish the sentence.

Alistair just looked at her. "Then what? What if it _is _too much for me?"

"I won't have you judging me. If that's why you came here, then you can go ahead and leave now." The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying, but she couldn't call them back.

"Jess..." Alistair gave her a pained look.

"Just go, Alistair," she said, a sick feeling in her stomach.

"I..." He looked about helplessly, but then his eyes locked onto her face, suddenly angry. "Fine." His voice took on a sarcastic tone. "I do so deeply apologize for caring. Apparently I shouldn't have bothered."

He was out the door before she had a chance to say anything, but what was there to say, really? Jessimyn sighed harshly. He should have known better than to engage her in such a conversation right after waking up. Well, she was up now, so she figured she may as well get dressed. She found the grey dress Leliana had scorned the day before and put it on. There was no reason to put on her armor, since she knew she was in no condition to be doing any training. Jessimyn winced when she checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was wild, all kinked up from sleeping in her braids. She found a ribbon and tied it back away from her face, then twisted it into a tight bun.

The mess hall was empty at that time of day, so Jessimyn just grabbed a few apples. On her way back to her barracks, Zevran accosted her.

"I saw the king storm out of your quarters. Is there something wrong?" His mock innocence grated on her.

"You know very well what's wrong, Zev. You knew Alistair was there, when you barged in. Why must you always tweak his nose? Do you enjoy making things more difficult for everyone?"

"Hmm..." He pondered the question. "Yes, I think I do."

Jessimyn grunted and walked into her barracks, going to her office. Zevran followed her, much to her dismay. "Was there something you needed?" She demanded. "Because I'm very busy right now."

Zevran grinned. "No, you're not. You having nothing you need to do just now. Nor do I."

"Well... go do nothing somewhere else, then."

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Fine. I just thought you might want to talk about last night."

"What about it?" She asked, her voice wary.

"I thought you should know that I was a little offended by your actions, once we got back here. I was just trying to get you to go to sleep, but you had your hands all over me. I told you it wasn't the right time for such things, but you kept trying to take my clothes off. You then declared your undying love for me and told me you wanted to have a dozen of my babies."

Jessimyn's eyes widened. "I... did not."

Zevran laughed. "No, that you did not. But you should see your face right now. Actually, you thought you were going to be sick, but you just passed out on your bed, instead. Being the good friend that I am, I changed you into your nightgown and tucked you in."

"Right... no different from what any other friend would do, I'm sure," Jessimyn said, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Well, I certainly got an eyeful, but I was otherwise the perfect gentleman," he said with a slight smile.

"So, we didn't..."

The look he gave her made her regret the question. "You think I would take advantage of you? I tend to prefer that my partners are responsive to my advances. If all I care about is my own pleasure, well... I have my hand for that."

Jessimyn grimaced. "I didn't mean... Look, just forget it."

He was all smiles again. "That's easy enough for you to say. You don't remember any of it in the first place."

"Oh, ha ha." She reached up to rub the side of her neck.

"You deserve better than him," Zevran said, so softly that Jessimyn could barely hear him. "The man is weak. He cannot even make up his mind about what he wants. Why do you let him treat you so?"

Jessimyn was startled by the sudden change of topic, but her surprise quickly turned to anger. "So now you would lecture me about my decisions as well? I don't need to explain myself to you any more than I need to explain myself to Alistair. If you want to fight and pull each others' hair, leave me out of it."

Zevran started to say something, but Jessimyn cut him off. "Just leave me alone, Zev. I'm in no mood for any of this today."

"As my lady wishes," Zevran said stiffly before he left.

With a groan, Jessimyn went back to her bedchamber. After making sure that the door was locked, she decided that maybe it would have been better if she hadn't gotten out of bed. The grey dress was once again discarded as Jessimyn changed into her nightgown and crawled back into bed.


	29. Zevran Chapter 29

After the spat they'd had following the festival, Zevran wanted to speak to Jessimyn, but he wanted her to come to him. He knew he had made her angry, but he'd only said what he thought she needed to hear. Zevran couldn't understand why she put up with Alistair. Sure, he could understand the initial attraction. Alistair was handsome enough, and he'd always had that charming, naive innocence working for him. However, as Zevran had been forced to watch their awkward courtship, he couldn't believe that she had the patience for him. Zevran certainly wouldn't have turned Jessimyn down had she invited _him_ back to her tent. Nor could he understand how Alistair had just let her leave after his coronation, especially if Alistair truly loved her as much as he'd always claimed to.

But too many times over the next couple of days, Zevran found himself wondering what he would have done, had he been in Alistair's place. He found his fascination in the subject to be unsettling, so he did what he could to put Jessimyn from his mind. Most of his days were spent in the yards, working with the possibles. That first day, they had pestered him with questions about the festival, but he refused to answer them, chastising them for not staying focused on their training.

It was a couple days later when Jessimyn finally made it out to the practice yards, fully dressed in her armor, to watch him train. The possibles all stopped and stared at her when she arrived, and Zevran could tell that irritated her. They'd always treated her with a sort of awed reverence, but this was different. It wasn't a loss of respect, but it was almost as if they didn't quite take her seriously anymore, as if seeing her dressed up as a lady made them forget she was still a deadly fighter.

She jumped over the railing and walked to the center of the yard. Without preamble, she said, "I want to see how your training is coming along, so I will spar each of you. Eli, you're first."

The boys exchanged glances, but then Eli moved to face her as Zevran and the others moved to the sides to watch. She made short work of Eli, disarming him almost immediately before hitting him in the neck with her practice sword. Will was next, and he was beaten almost as quickly. He made an awkward lunge at her, but Jessimyn ducked and kicked his feet out from under him before bringing her sword down on his helmet. Kellen lasted a little longer, but when he tried to thrust his shield at her, Jessimyn danced out of the way and was able to get behind him, jabbing him in the back with the tip of her practice dagger.

Tivven at least gave her a bit of a fight. He was quick with his shield, managing to block the blows she was raining down on him, but he made few offensive moves. He managed to catch her arm with the corner of her shield, and Zevran thought he had her as she dropped to the ground, but she was too fast. She struck Tivven's leg with a loud _thwack_, causing him to jerk to one side. The swing he'd been throwing at her missed, and she hit him twice more, once on his sword arm, and then on his head.

While watching her move, Zevran found himself admiring her. Jessimyn was quick and limber, and she seemed to be able to slip out of any tight spot. But what made her spectacular was her confidence. Zevran had seen too many people die, some at his own hand, because they hesitated in a critical moment. Jessimyn seemed to be able to spot a weakness and attack it without pause. It never ceased to amaze him that she was a noblewoman, but he certainly wouldn't hold that against her.

Once Tivven was bested, Jessimyn threw her practice weapons to the ground. "I should send all of you home," she growled at the possibles.

"But... you don't even fight fair," Will muttered.

In a flash, Jessimyn was on him, her face only inches from his. "You want to be a Grey Warden. Do you even know what that means? It means you give your life to fight against the darkspawn threat. Do you think darkspawn fight fair? Are they going to send a general out to treat with you, should your army be facing theirs across a field? Are they going to salute before they attack?"

She raised her voice, and Zevran could tell she was angry. "We are not preparing for a tourney. If you are here because you think you'll find glory or fame, I'd suggest packing your things now. There will be no fair damsel standing nearby to give you her favor. There will be no purse to take home to your family, as there will be no family, outside of the Wardens. And there will be no excuses. If you're too scared to fight me, how will you face an ogre? Or a desire demon? If you're not willing to sacrifice everything for this, then stop wasting my time and go home to your mothers."

A dramatic sigh came from behind Zevran, and he turned to see Jakob standing there, a strange smile on his face. "She may very well be the perfect woman, don't you think?" He grinned.

Zevran couldn't tell if the man was being serious or not, but he doubted he was. He chose to ignore the question. Not that he could have answered it anyway. That was the beginning of a dangerous path. "You didn't think so the last time she spoke to _you _so," he said.

Jakob just laughed and jumped over the railing, striding to the center of the yards. "Shall we show them what a real fight looks like, then?"

Jessimyn gave him an annoyed look. "If you're so eager to help out, then you can run them through some drills." She stalked away, and Zevran almost laughed at the disappointed look on Jakob's face.

It was still a few days after that when Jessimyn finally spoke to Zevran. He'd been having breakfast, a week after the festival, and she sat down at his table. "What do you have planned for today?" She asked.

He shrugged. "I had a message yesterday that the armor we sent for repair was ready, so I was going to go pick it up later. Did you need something?"

She shook her head. "No. Let me know when you're going to leave, though, and I'll go with you. I could use a chance to stretch my legs. I've been feeling a little cooped up lately."

Zevran nodded at her, and she left the hall. Well, it was a start at least. He suddenly wondered if she'd been waiting for him to apologize to her. He would not, of course, as everything he had said was absolutely true. The sooner she realized this, the better off she would be. _But why do you even care so much? _A little voice asked inside his head. He refused to let himself dwell on such things and focused on his breakfast. When he finished his meal, he found Jessimyn outside talking with Jakob.

"...but why do I have to do it?" Jakob was saying.

"Because I told you to. Stop arguing with me about it," Jessimyn said, her hands on her hips.

Jakob just muttered something under his breath and stalked off, leaving Jessimyn to glare after him. She realized Zevran was standing there and nodded to him.

"Jakob causing you trouble?" He asked.

"Does he ever do anything else?"

Zevran smiled at her. "We can go now to the armorer's, if you like. It's hot already, and it's just going to get hotter."

Jessimyn nodded. "Very well."

As they made their way out of the compound and through the first few alleys, neither of them spoke. Finally, Jessimyn said, "The Landsmeet should be underway right now."

Zevran eyed her. "Are we reduced to idle chitchat, then?"

"I prefer it to the alternative, I think." When Zevran was about to respond, she spoke over him. "I don't want to hear about how you're just looking out for me, or how you have my best interests at heart. I am an adult, as everyone has seemed to forget, and I can make my own decisions."

"Of course," Zevran said.

They walked in silence a while longer, Zevran glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She didn't look angry, which was good, but she might become so if he were to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, which is what he felt like doing just then.

"Stop," said Zevran, placing a hand on Jessimyn's arm.

"What is it?"

He'd caught some sort of movement to their side, and he looked around. With a grimace, he said, "I think we are surrounded."

As he spoke, men appeared from all sides. They were all dressed in flimsy armor, carrying cheap swords, but there were quite a few of them, eight by Zevran's count. The way they stalked towards them made their intentions clear. He heard Jessimyn draw her weapons as he did the same. "Just like old times," Zevran said with a laugh as they stood back to back.

Then the first person charged. "Get 'm!"

Jessimyn and Zevran fought as two arms of one body. Zevran heard the clangs of metal on metal coming from behind him. He knew he could trust her to protect his back, just as she trusted him with hers. Zevran cut down the first man quickly, his sword easily slicing through the leather over his chest. Another man thrust a sword at him, but Zevran deflected it with the dagger in his offhand, bringing his sword slashing across the man's throat. A sword flew at his arm, and Zevran took the hit with a slight wince, grateful for the armor that absorbed most of the blow. Another slash came at his head, but Zevran ducked quickly, then thrust his sword into the man's stomach. He fell, taking Zevran's sword with him. The dagger was shifted to his main hand right as the fourth man came at him.

The man had a shield and deflected what Zevran threw at him. Having only the dagger shortened his reach, and Zevran found himself dancing back to keep from being hit. After ducking a blow that came very close to slicing the top of his head off, Zevran charged. The surprise on the man's face almost made Zevran laugh as he shoved the shield back into the man's face, knocking him to the ground. Zevran went down with him, jumping on top of the shield as he plunged his dagger into the man's throat. He turned around quickly, only to see the last man who had been fighting Jessimyn fall. He went to retrieve his sword from the third man, who was still alive.

Zevran kneeled on his chest, his knee right next to where the sword was piercing his gut. "Who are you?" He demanded. "Who sent you."

Blood bubbled from the man's mouth as he tried to speak. "...Crimson... Oars... you..." He choked and said no more. Zevran growled, jerking the sword free.

"Zev?"

Her voice sounded... off. Zevran turned to see Jessimyn standing, her hands pressed to her chest. There was blood all down her front, trailing down her right leg, and she looked pale. He rushed to her.

"I think... I'm hit," she said, trying to smile before she collapsed.

Zevran just barely managed to catch her. "Jess!" He cried, but she was unconscious. It was clear she'd taken a sword straight through her chest, just below her right breast, and she was losing blood fast. He lifted her as gently as he could before rushing back to the compound. She made soft, pained sounds as he ran, and he did everything he could, trying not to bounce her. Jessimyn's face was as pale as paper, and by the time they made it back to the compound, he was covered in her blood.

"Jakob," Zevran yelled at the first person he spotted. "Get Kyran. Hurry!"

For once, Jakob didn't protest, and he was off running for the mage. The two returned quickly, and Zevran saw all of the other men pouring out of the barracks. He reluctantly moved back as Kyran knelt at her side.

"Jakob," he said again. "Go tell..." Who? He was going to say Alistair, but changed it at the last minute. "Go find her brother. Teyrn Cousland. He should be at the Landsmeet." Alistair would be at the Landsmeet, too, so he would still find out what happened.

Again, Jakob ran off without comment. Zevran turned back to Kyran. "Is she..."

"She's lost a lot of blood," said the mage. "And this is not a simple wound. I've mostly stopped the bleeding for now, but we need to move her to her room. This... will not be easy to heal... if I can heal it at all." A look of anguish crossed Kyran's face.

Without a word, Zevran gently lifted her and carried her to her barracks, Kyran hurrying in front of him to open the doors. Thankfully, the others all stayed outside, and once Zevran placed Jessimyn on her bed, he took a step back.

_Don't die_, he thought. _You can't die. _He watched as Kyran stood over her and realized he'd never felt more helpless in all his life.


	30. Alistair Chapter 30

The Landsmeet was finally over, but few of the nobles had left yet. Alistair shifted from foot to foot, anxious to be away. He was already in a sour enough mood, one that had lasted for a week now, and he didn't feel like making small talk. Especially when so many people wanted to talk about the one person he was trying not to think about. So many times he had started to make his way to the Grey Warden's compound, only to stop himself. While he wanted nothing more to tumble into bed with Jessimyn, to make up with her in the most passionate of ways, he knew that Zevran would be there, always lurking somewhere nearby. That thought always made him turn around and go back to the palace.

There was no denying that Alistair was jealous. He always had been, at least a little, from the moment Jessimyn decided not to kill him, decided instead to let him join their wayward band. After all, Zevran was everything he was not. The assassin was smooth, charming... experienced. It hadn't bothered him as much before, though, because Alistair had always been there. He knew Jessimyn loved him and not Zevran, and while she might laugh and flirt a little with the assassin as they traveled, it was always Alistair's bed that she went to each night, always his arms that she fell asleep in. It was different now, and he had no idea what happened between the two of them when he wasn't around.

What bothered him the most was that Jessimyn hadn't answered his question. While she hadn't admitted to sleeping with Zevran, she hadn't denied it, either. But then he would ask himself the same thing she had. What if she had? The thought made him sick, but it didn't change his feelings for her. Alistair loved her with everything he had, and he'd told her he would take whatever she was willing to give him, but the truth was that he wanted more. He wanted all of her. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door to the hall crash open.

"Forgive my intrusion, my lords," came a voice that seemed familiar. "I need to speak to Teyrn Cousland immediately."

Alistair moved forward, and when he saw Jakob standing there, looking frantic, his heart nearly stopped. Jakob... and he was looking for Fergus... Jessimyn's brother strode forward, a slightly annoyed look on his face. "What is it?" He demanded.

"It's... it's your sister, Your Grace. She's been wounded. Gravely so, I'm afraid. Our mage is with her now, but... you must hurry."

Without a word, Fergus followed Jakob out of the room at a near run. Alistair felt himself panicking. Jessimyn was gravely wounded, and they didn't think even the mage could heal her? He cast his eyes around wildly. He had to go to her, but the other nobles... Teyrn Wulff was standing right there, and Bann Teagan looked like he was about to follow Fergus. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Eamon next to him.

"Just go," Eamon whispered quietly. "Everyone knows she is your friend. They'll understand. I'll take care of it. Just go." He then turned to whisper something to Teagan.

He needed no more encouragement than that, and Alistair went out the door to the hall, ignoring any of the looks the nobles might have been giving him. He moved as quickly as he could, without running, to the compound, two of his guards hurrying after him. When they got there, a large group was gathered outside Jessimyn's quarters. He gestured to his guards to wait and went inside. Once the door to the barracks was shut, he heard raised voices coming from her sitting room. Zevran was sitting on the edge of a chair, and he was covered in blood. The sight made Alistair's heart clench, as he knew it was not the assassin's blood. Fergus was pacing in front of him, his face red with anger.

"... fool man!" Fergus was yelling. "And if she dies, I swear to the Maker I'll kill you, too! I should kill you anyway!"

Zevran and Fergus both seemed to notice Alistair's entrance at the same time. Zevran gave him a helpless look, and Fergus was about to start yelling again, he could tell, but Alistair held up a hand. He turned to the elf.

"Zevran, what happened."

"We were ambushed," he said miserably. "There were eight of them and just the two of us. She took a sword through her chest. I got her back here as quickly as I could, but... there was so much blood..."

Alistair had to hold onto the back of a chair to keep his legs from giving out beneath him. "Is she..."

"We don't know," Fergus said shortly. "The mage is in there with her."

"Who was it?" Alistair asked.

Zevran seemed to come back to himself a bit at the question. "The Crimson Oars, or so one of them claimed. But that doesn't make sense. I thought they were a mercenary group. Why would they attack us?"

Alistair grimaced. "They've... gone underground in the past couple of years. They used to be for hire to any who needed protection, but lately it seems they accept... darker work. I think they fancy themselves a sort of assassins guild."

"They have nothing on the Crows," Zevran said with a harsh laugh.

"And lucky we are at that," Alistair responded quietly, receiving a sober nod from the elf.

The door to Jessimyn's room opened, and Kyran stepped out. He seemed surprised at the men gathered there, but he beckoned them all inside. Jessimyn lay atop her bed, her eyes closed. She looked so small and pale, lying there unconscious. Bandages had been wound around her midsection, from her waist up over her breasts, though that was likely more for modesty's sake... Alistair hoped. Other than that, she was just wearing her bloodied leggings. The rest of her armor lie in a heap against the wall.

Kyran sat down in a chair near her bed. "She will live, though it was a close thing." Alistair was startled by how weary the man sounded, how weary he looked. Kyran touched his own chest, near the bottom of his ribs. "She took a sword straight through here, and it pierced her lung. It took a lot out of me to heal it, and it has left her very weak. She'll need to stay abed for a few days at least. She's... lost a lot of blood. I'll need to watch her, to make sure infection doesn't set in, though I think I've managed that. She... will just need time to rest."

"Looks like you could use some as well," Zevran said.

Kyran nodded, looking embarrassed. "Many people don't understand how healing works. They think I just have to wave my hands, and everything is better. Sometimes this is the case, when someone just has an injury to an arm or a leg, but an injury to the body is different. Healing just hastens the body's natural reactions, so I can cause the flesh to knit back together quicker than it would on its own. Injuries to the heart, lungs, or gut are harder. There's a lot more to... fix, and the risk for infection is greater. Once infection sets in, there is little hope. She's actually lucky," he said, shaking his head. "If the sword had gone just a little lower, through her gut, there would have been little, if anything, I could do."

"Why is that?" Alistair asked, curious.

Kyran hesitated, as if trying to choose his words. "Well, there is... a lot in that area of the body. And the gut, it is filled with..." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "...with waste. If that was to spill into the body..." He shook his head. "Infection would be immediate and widespread. Not to mention the difficulty of healing all of the different... parts."

"...what a lucky girl I am," Jessimyn croaked softly, and all eyes turned to her. "...to have my bedroom filled with such handsome men." She tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough. Alistair noticed the blood on her lips.

"She's... coughing up blood," he said, worried, but Kyran just nodded.

"And she will, for a while," Kyran said, rubbing his face. "Like I said, her lung was pierced. We just have to watch it. It will go away in a few days."

At her words, Fergus had gone immediately to Jessimyn's side and was holding her hand. "Jess? Oh Maker, Jess. I thought..."

"Fergus?" Her voice was so weak.

"I'm here, my sweet sister. Is there anything you need?"

"Cold," she muttered, her eyes fluttering closed.

Fergus looked to Kyran. "Is she feverish?"

Kyran shook his head. "No, she's likely cold from the blood loss." He looked around and grabbed the cleanest blanket he could find and draped it over her. He then wet a napkin and gently wiped the blood from her mouth. "She needs to sleep," he said, and the men nodded before moving back into the sitting room.

"So where can I find these Crimson Oars," Fergus growled. "Because I'm going to kill every last one of them."

"Last I'd heard, their hideout was in the alleys between the alienage and the Pearl," said Alistair. "I'm going with you."

"No, Your Majesty," Fergus objected. "I know why you want to go," he said, his eyes flickering to Zevran as if he didn't want to give too much away. "But you cannot. You are king. You cannot go chasing after bandits. But I can." He turned to Zevran. "You're coming with me, elf."

"I wouldn't dream of it any other way," said Zevran, his face grim.

Alistair started to object, but Fergus said, "Please, Your Majesty. Stay here with her. I don't want her to wake up and find herself alone."

Alistair nodded, touched by the emotion in the teyrn's voice. "Very well," he said. "But take... take Jakob with you. And one of the guardsmen who came with me." He looked to Zevran. "And anyone else suitable."

Fergus frowned but nodded. "I'm going to the palace to get my armor, but I'll be back."

"Are you certain you're up to it... Your Grace?" Zevran asked, stumbling a little on the title. "I'm sure the rest of us could manage without you."

Alistair had expected outrage at the question, but Fergus just laughed and said, "You've seen Jess fight, yes?" Zevran nodded. "Who do you think taught her? No, the men who did this to her... I will see them pay, with my own eyes. I will make them pay, with my own hand." Then he was out the door, leaving Alistair alone with Zevran.

The two men regarded each other silently for a moment. Finally, Zevran said, "Shall I bring you the ears of all the men we kill?"

Alistair had to smile. "No, I don't think that will be necessary." He paused before saying, "And Zevran? Thank you." The assassin raised his eyebrow, and Alistair continued. "For getting her back here so quickly. For..."

"Ah," said Zevran quietly. "Then you do not blame me, as her brother does?"

"Eight against two? A lesser man would likely be dead alongside her right now."

Zevran looked at him, his expression unreadable. Finally he nodded. "I will go gather the men we need," he said as he stood up.

When he was gone, Alistair looked at the door to Jessimyn's bedchamber. He hesitated only a little before opening the door. Kyran looked up from where he'd been sitting, his eyes barely open. Alistair walked over to him, placing a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Go get some rest, Kyran." When the mage started to protest, Alistair said, "I'll stay here with her. I'll still have one guard outside, and should anything happen, I'll shout for him to go get you. But if something _were _to happen, you'd be better able to help if you've had some sleep. Go on. I'll be here until you return."

The mage nodded and stood up. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said and exited the room.

Alistair sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Jessimyn. He reached to smooth the hair back from her face. "Oh, my love," he whispered softly.

Her eyes fluttered open again, and she began to cough. Alistair grabbed the napkin, holding it in front of her mouth.

"Can you... help me sit up?" She asked. "It's hard to breathe."

Sliding his hand behind her back, Alistair eased Jessimyn up into a sitting position. He kicked off his boots, then slid onto the bed behind her, pulling her back to lean against his chest. She turned her head, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, and Alistair wrapped his arms around her. He pressed a soft kiss to her head.

"You had us all very worried," he said quietly.

"Where is everyone else?" She asked, and he tightened his hold on her.

"They... went to go find the men who did this."

Jessimyn just nodded, bringing a hand up to rest on his arm. "I'm glad you stayed," she said.

He touched her cheek with his hand. "Jess, I want you to know how sorry I am, for the things I said to you. I never should have..." He sighed.

"...love you," she said, barely loud enough to hear, and Alistair was surprised by the stinging he felt in his eyes.

"I love you, too," he whispered into her hair, but she was already asleep again. Alistair shifted slowly, so as not to disturb her, and pulled a pillow up to place behind his back. He then pulled her blanket up over her legs. Jessimyn felt so cold in his arms, and he held her close to him to lend her some of his warmth. After kissing her again on the head, Alistair leaned his cheek against her and closed his own eyes, just happy to have her in his arms.

He didn't realize he'd dozed off until the door opened, and he startled awake. Kyran entered holding a tray with a bowl and a cup on top, but the mage paused when he saw them. Alistair realized how it must look, with him sitting on her bed, his arms around her, one of his hands practically on her breast.

"She was having trouble breathing," the king said by way of explanation. "It seemed easier for her when she was sitting up. But I didn't want to just prop her up, for fear that she might... fall over..." He realized how lame his excuse sounded as he was saying it, but Kyran just nodded.

"I've brought her soup and tea," said Kyran.

"I thought you were going to rest," said Alistair.

Kyran smiled at him. "I slept a few hours, but I wanted to check on her." Alistair shifted as if to move from the bed, but Kyran shook his head. "Don't move on my account. You're right. It's probably better for her to be sitting up."

With a nod, Alistair watched as Kyran set the tray down, then walked over to the bed. He held his hands out over Jessimyn's abdomen and closed his eyes. A white glow appeared around him for a minute, but then it was gone. "She seems to be doing better. Not completely out of the woods yet, but I feel more confident of her recovery now than I did when I first saw her."

He sat down on the chair near the bed and looked at Alistair for a moment. "She found me at the Circle Tower. I suppose that's probably obvious. I was still an apprentice when she arrived, though I was set to go through my Harrowing a few days after she showed up. The Harrowing... but then, you were a templar, were you not? I suppose you know all about that." Alistair nodded, and Kyran continued. "I never enjoyed my time among the mages. The other apprentices... they were not kind. They thought I was..." He frowned. "Too soft. Too... feminine, I suppose. Or maybe just not manly enough. They were also jealous, as I was more powerful than they. Jealousy and disdain do not make good partners, and so they were hard on me."

Alistair just looked at Kyran, wondering why he was telling him all this. The mage continued. "Sometimes I think the reason Irving suggested that I be the one for her to take with her... it's because he knew this. He knew that I would do better outside the Circle than within it. I think he was right. I will always be grateful for her. She probably saved my life by making me a Grey Warden. So you see... my loyalty is to her. Of course, I am also loyal to the Grey Wardens, to all we stand for, but my first loyalty will always be to her. I tell you this because I think you understand. Because I think... I hope I am not out of line here, Your Majesty, but I think it is the same with you. Maybe it's for different reasons, but your loyalty is to her as well."

Kyran leaned forward a little in his chair. "We were at the Tower still, when word arrived of your engagement to the queen. I barely knew Jessimyn then, you understand, but I saw how it affected her." He smiled a little at Alistair's reaction to this. "I am quiet, I stay out of people's way, but I see a lot. I see the two of you, and I... I understand."

Alistair just nodded, unable to find the words to respond to Kyran. He was saved from having to when Jessimyn stirred in his arms.

"I've brought soup and tea, Jessimyn," Kyran said. "If we help, do you think you can eat?"

"Yes... something warm would be nice," she said.

Kyran brought the bowl up and fed her the soup while Alistair held her upright. He used the opportunity to study the mage, realizing he'd never really given him much thought before. Jakob had always been the one who demanded attention, while Kyran had always seemed content to stand off to one side, out of everyone's sight.

The cup of tea was passed to Jessimyn, and Alistair helped support her hand as she drank. When she finished, she shivered a little. "Hmm... I think that helped," she said, her voice a little stronger than it had been.

Kyran nodded and collected the cup and bowl, replacing them on the tray. "I'm going to try and rest a little more," he said. "If you would have your guard come get me when you need to leave, Your Majesty?" Alistair nodded, and then he and Jessimyn were once again left alone.

Alistair rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I think I want to lay back down again," she said.

As gently as he could, he moved out from behind her and helped her back onto the bed. He pulled the blankets up to her shoulders as she reached out her hand for his. "Lie with me for a while?"

Alistair nodded and stretched out next to her, propping himself up on an elbow so that he could look down at her. He trailed a finger across her chin. "Even near death, you are beautiful," he said and was rewarded with a soft laugh. Alistair wanted nothing more than to crush her to him, to hold her tight and never let go, but he settled for holding her hand and placing soft kisses across her face.

They stayed like that for a while, lying next to each other without speaking. All the words that Alistair had practiced in his head over the past week, all the conversations he'd imagined they would have, it all seemed to float away. None of those words seemed necessary anymore. He traced his fingers over her face, her neck, her shoulders.

Finally, she said, "You should probably go."

Alistair nodded, though not without a tinge of sadness. "I... suppose I probably should. I'll be back tomorrow?" He posed it as a question, looking at her expectantly.

Jessimyn nodded. "I'll try to be a better hostess," she said lightly, though Alistair could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

He pressed his lips to hers, and she reached up to grasp his shirt. He wrapped his hand around hers, then kissed her fingers. Alistair sat up and pulled his boots back on, then stepped outside to tell his guard to ask Kyran to come back. When he went back to Jessimyn's bedroom, she was asleep. He tucked her blanket under her chin, then waited for the mage to return.


	31. Fergus Chapter 31

_I'll kill them. I'll kill them. I'll kill them all._

The words ran through Fergus' mind as he hurried to the palace, back to his apartments. Men and women threw questions at him as he passed, but he ignored them all. He didn't want to stop to talk to anyone, and no one could make him stop. Only the king would have had that sort of authority, and he had more important things on his mind just then. He slammed the door once he got to his rooms. "Daynin!" The man appeared. "My armor! Now!"

The manservant hurried to Fergus' room and brought out his armor. Without speaking, he quickly buckled the teyrn into his armor, then went for his sword and shield. Fergus took them, hefting the sword in his hand.

"Your Grace?" Daynin looked at him curiously.

Fergus turned on him. "My sister has been hurt. She may be dying as we speak." He grabbed Daynin by the front of his shirt. "Someone is going to pay for spilling Cousland blood." He released him and strode from the room.

No one spoke to him as Fergus made his way back out of the palace and to the compound. In fact, most people seemed to try to jump out of his way as he passed. He could only imagine what his face must have looked like. It had been a long time since he'd been in armor, but he knew he looked imposing in it. When he got to the compound, Zevran was waiting outside the barracks with Jakob and two other men, one of whom was one of the king's guards.

"All right," said Fergus. "You, elf... Zevran. Take us to where you were attacked."

Zevran looked as if he was going to say something, but then he just nodded and led the group away from the compound. That was good. Fergus wanted to establish right from the start that he was the one in charge of this expedition. He was the best suited for command, after all. Fergus walked beside Zevran, and the other men followed closely behind. They wound their way through a number of small alleyways before coming to an open area. Fergus kept his sword in his hand, surveying the surroundings.

"It was here," Zevran said as he gestured.

The bodies had already been removed, but the ground was still bloody. Fergus walked into the middle of where the fight had obviously taken place and made a slow circle. "From which way did they come?"

"From all directions," said Zevran. "They surrounded us and ambushed us. It's obvious they were waiting for us."

"But why?" Jakob asked. "Why attack you? Jessimyn's a hero. She doesn't have any enemies here."

"Let's keep moving," said Fergus. "The king said the base of operations for these Crimson Oars is between the alienage and the Pearl." He turned to Zevran. "I'm sure you know the way to both of those places. Lead the way."

Zevran frowned at him then, but he still kept quiet, much to Fergus' pleasure. They made their way through the city slowly, taking time to question anyone they saw about the Crimson Oars. Most knew nothing, or claimed to know nothing, but there were a few people who were willing to offer them information. The closer they got, the more specific were the tips that were given, until finally the group made it to a large building, set away from the streets. There was only one floor that they could see, but some people had said that they heard it had basements and subbasements in it.

Fergus stopped short, and everyone looked at him expectantly. "We don't know how many men are in there," he said. "Once the door is open, I'll go in first, but once we're inside, I want Zevran leading. You'll scout ahead as best you can into each new area and let us know what's awaiting us. There will be no talking other than that, and we'll go as quietly as possible. I want to deal with as few people at a time as we can." He paused so as to give his next words the emphasis they needed. "There will be no mercy for these men."

"Shouldn't we try to question some of them?" Zevran asked, arms folded over his chest. "See who sent them, why they attacked us?"

"Once everyone is dealt with, if there are any alive, you may ask them whatever you will. But no one outside of this group is going to leave that building alive. Is that understood?"

The other men nodded, but Fergus was looking at Zevran. The elf finally gave him a little mocking bow. Well, let him mock, as well as he understood. That was the most important thing right now. They prowled around the perimeter of the building, but there was no one in sight. The windows were shuttered, so they could not tell if there was any movement behind them. Fergus found himself wondering if any had survived the attack to run back and warn everyone else of its failure. He almost hoped someone did, so that the men would know why they were dying.

As there was no one out in front of the building, they went straight to the front door. Zevran went to work on the door, and he had the lock opened in a matter of seconds. Fergus went in first, his shield up and ready. There was a man standing just inside the door, but Fergus ran him through before he could sound an alarm. A long hallway stretched out in front of them, with doorways on either side. Fergus could make out what looked like a stairwell at the end of the hall. With his sword, he gestured to the first door on the right.

Zevran went to the door without a word and threw it open. There was no one inside. It was the same for the next three doors that they tried. Fergus started getting antsy, but he got the fight he was looking for when they opened the last door on the left. It opened into a mess hall, and there were six men inside. Fergus' group charged without hesitation, killing the first two men before they even had a chance to stand up. One of the men had managed to draw his sword, but as he charged, Fergus smashed the man across the face with his shield, sending him flying and the sword skittering away. He was on him quickly and drove his sword through the man's chest, then wiped the blade on the fallen man's cloak. Fergus turned to see that Alistair's guardsman had taken a gash on his arm, but they were otherwise whole, and the men they'd come for were otherwise dead. However, it seemed their presence was now known, as they heard footsteps running up the stairs.

"Hold the stairwell!" Fergus called, running for the door.

He knew they had a good position at the top of the stairs. The men could only come up one or two at a time, and if they could hold them, they should be able to pick them off easily. Of course, he knew it wouldn't last for long. The Crimson Oars would soon realize what was happening and would stop their rush up the stairs, at which point Fergus and his men would have to descend. In fact, only five men came up the stairs, all of whom were cut almost as soon as they came through the doorway. Before they moved to the lower level, Fergus regarded his companions.

Zevran had a fierce look of determination on his face. Fergus had actually been impressed, as he saw the man's fighting abilities. Perhaps he had underestimated the elf. Jakob's face was alight, and it seemed he was actually enjoying this. The other Grey Warden, Fergus thought his name was Delmon, seemed impassive. He stood still, alert yet calm. Alistair's guardsman, though, seemed the worst off. He was bleeding not only from the cut on his arm, but there was also a gash across his cheek. _Of all of us, he'll be the first to fall_, Fergus thought grimly.

With a nod of his head, Fergus gestured to Zevran to start the descent down the stairs. The men moved as quietly as they could, but they were not surprised at the group of men waiting for them at the bottom. Zevran reached the last step and ducked down, rolling between two of the men to pop up behind them. As their attention was shifted to the elf, Fergus charged down, slashing at a leg with his sword while bringing up his shield to block a jab thrown his way. He pushed his way through to break the bottleneck at the foot of the stairs, allowing the rest of his men to fan out with him. Once the Crimson Oars had been dealt with, Fergus once again took in the lay of the floor.

It was identical to the level above, with a long hallway stretching in front of them, doors on either side, and a set of stairs at the end. As they started to move forward to the first door, Zevran held up his hand to stop them.

"There's a trap there," he said quietly. Sure enough, a hastily set up tripwire spanned the length of the hallway, but Zevran easily disarmed it.

They made quick work of the floor, clearing out the few men who were hiding in the rooms. Most of them seemed frightened, which Fergus found encouraging. A cowering man put up much less of a fight than an enraged one. Once again, though, there was a group of men waiting for them at the bottom of the second set of stairs, and once again they were easily defeated.

"Is that everyone?" Jakob asked, looking disappointed.

Fergus looked around. The bottom level was just one large room. There were four stone pillars from floor to ceiling, and a number of chairs and some shelves along the walls, but the room otherwise seemed bare. Well, other than the fresh corpses that littered the ground, of course. Fergus found himself feeling as disappointed as Jakob had sounded. He turned to the rest of the group.

"You and you," he said, pointing to Delmon and Alistair's guard. "Go back up to the main level, make sure everyone's dead." The two men headed back up the stairs. "You two go up to the floor above us, do the same," he said to Zevran and Jakob. They nodded and left without comment, leaving Fergus alone on the bottom level.

He kicked at each of the men lying on the ground, but they were all indeed very dead. However, as he made his way back in the room, he noticed a small, concealed door in the far corner. A large set of shelves that sat next to it had blocked it from view when standing at the base of the stairs. Fergus crept up to it and pressed his ear to the door, listening. There were faint sounds coming from behind it. He took a step back, then savagely kicked the door open. The room was small, and there was a desk in the middle, behind which was a cowering man.

"Please, my lord. Please," the man whimpered, holding his hands up. "Have mercy, please."

Fergus strode up to him, grabbing the man by the shirt and placing his sword against his throat. "You deserve no mercy, you worthless piece of shit."

"I... was not there, my lord. I just sent the men, and one came back and told us... We... didn't know who she was, I swear. If we had known..." The man was shaking, and Fergus caught the sent of urine as the man wet himself.

With a disgusted grunt, Fergus leaned in closely. "So, it was all a mistake, then?" He sneered.

"Yes! Yes, my lord!" The man exclaimed. "A terrible mistake. Please... mercy..."

"Yes," said Fergus. "A most terrible mistake. For, you see, you were supposed to kill the elf. That shouldn't have been too hard for you, I don't think. Yet instead, you nearly killed my sister. You have spilled Cousland blood, and for that, there can be no mercy."

The man's eyes widened as Fergus drove the sword through his neck. Blood bubbled up from his lips, and his eyes rolled back. Fergus jerked the blade free, giving the man a kick to send him sprawling on the floor next to the desk, blood already pooling around him. He cleaned his blade on a cushion that sat atop the chair, then moved to rejoin his companions.


	32. Jessimyn Chapter 32

It was five days after she'd been injured, and Kyran finally agreed that Jessimyn should be able to get out of bed. She'd slept for the first day and a half, but after that, she'd been pestering him to allow her to be up and around. He had insisted that she still needed rest, to keep the wound from reopening and to make sure that nothing became infected. Normally she might have ignored him and gotten up anyway, but she had heard the things Kyran said to Alistair that first day, when they assumed she was asleep. If she'd had any hesitations in trusting him before, there were none now. So she listened to his advice, and waited.

Alistair had come to visit every day, but she had made him leave after only a short while each time. At first he had been hurt by that, but she reminded him that it might be better to wait and make a longer visit when they could both fully appreciate their time together. That had convinced him. Fergus had also been to visit each day. He'd told her how he and the others had wiped out the Crimson Oars' lair. He was still angry about it all, though. She could tell. Leliana had been by a few times, always with stories or gossip to keep Jessimyn entertained. She had also helped bathe her, which had been an ordeal in and of itself.

After the first day, Zevran had been the one to bring her food each day, but he otherwise stayed away. She could tell he hadn't wanted to talk about the attack, so she didn't bring it up. They had both been there, after all. What did they really need to talk about? Jessimyn had few other visitors, and Kyran always checked with her first, before admitting someone. Teagan had come the second and third day, but it was the fourth before she finally consented to see him. She had let him stay only long enough to see that she was, indeed, recovering from her wounds. Despite all her visitors, though, she had been terribly bored, so it was a great relief when Kyran said she could get up, although he encouraged her not to do any training for another week at least. He also still insisted on checking her wound each day.

Jessimyn had quickly discovered that wearing a dress caused problems. The chemise she wore underneath would bunch and rub on her still-tender scar, but dresses also posed a problem for Kyran. It seemed to bother him if she had to bare herself to the waist so that he could examine her, so she had begun wearing a shirt and trousers. She found them much more comfortable and versatile and wondered if she would ever go back to dresses.

She was pacing in her office when there was a knock at the door. "Enter," she called.

Fergus strode in, a smile on his face. "I checked your room, but you weren't there. I am happy to see that you are up and around again."

Jessimyn nodded. "Up, yes, but not really around yet. A few more days, and then I should be back in my armor." She waited for him to make a comment on what she was wearing, and she could see him contemplating it, but he refrained.

Instead, Fergus said, "I expect you to be careful from now on. It was bad enough to be told you were hurt while I was here. I don't want to get a letter in Highever, saying something else has happened to you."

Jessimyn smirked at him. "Yes, I can only imagine how my almost dying must have affected you."

Fergus gave her a sober look. "You know what I mean. I would never forgive myself, if something happened to you."

Jessimyn shook her head. "It wasn't your fault, Fergus. I'm a big girl. I'm supposed to be able to take care of myself." She noticed the grimace on his face and added, "I promise you I'll be more careful."

He ruffled her hair, like he used to do when she was a child. "Please do, for my sake if nothing else. You're too important to me, and I won't allow _anything _bad to happen to you." He sighed. "Well, I suppose I really should be going. We're set to leave for Highever the day after tomorrow, and there's still so much packing to oversee. I'm afraid I'll be busy with the planning until then, but it is good to see you recovered before I have to leave."

"It's only too bad that you have to go back so soon," said Jessimyn.

He smiled. "As much as I love living in a few tiny rooms in the palace, I'm afraid I miss my family too much. I'm sure I've already missed Lyla's first smiles and laughs, or will have by the time I get back."

With a nod, Jessimyn said, "I understand."

There was another knock at the door, and this time it was Alistair who entered. "Oh, forgive me for intruding," he began.

"Not at all, Your Majesty," said Fergus. "I was just coming to say my goodbyes." He leaned in to give Jessimyn a hug. "Take care of yourself, little sister," he said, then he turned to bow to Alistair. "Your Majesty."

When Fergus was gone, Jessimyn sat on the edge of her desk.

"Kyran has finally let you out of bed, I see," said Alistair.

Jessimyn smiled. "Well, I may have had to threaten him a little, but yes. I'm still a little sore, and I'm not quite ready to be swinging a sword around again, but I'm getting there."

Alistair moved to sit next to her. "So I've been meaning to ask... how did it happen?"

Jessimyn laughed softly. "You mean how did I let myself be nearly killed by a bunch of bandits who could barely hold their swords?"

"Well... I wouldn't have put it like that, but... yes. I've seen you manage worse."

With a sigh, Jessimyn said, "I thought we had them. There were eight of them, true, but they were no real match for Zevran and me. I guess one of them wasn't quite as dead as I thought he was. When the last man fell, I leaned down to pull my sword from his chest, and another man who was nearby brought his sword up." She shook her head. "It was my own fault. When I felt it poke into my chest, I jerked back, but my foot slipped in the gore at my feet, and I ended up impaling myself further." She grimaced. "So I was nearly killed by my own clumsiness. Not a very good story, is it?"

It seemed Alistair was trying not to smile as he said, "Hmm... not the best time for your natural grace to fail you."

She quirked her lips at him. "Oh, just go ahead and laugh at me. It's obvious you want to. I'd probably laugh too, if it wasn't me that it happened to."

Alistair put his arm around her, suddenly sober. "No, I don't really feel like laughing, I don't think. I'm just glad you're safe."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Yes, well... as am I. It made me realize just how much we used to rely on Wynne. Kyran is skilled, but I don't know of anyone who can match Wynne's healing abilities. Still, I am very lucky he was here."

"Jess," said Alistair after a moment, lightly touching her cheek. "I want to apologize."

"Alistair, you don't need..."

"I do," he said, cutting her off. "You were right, I had no right to ask you about..." He sighed. "I know it's not fair of me, but the idea of you being with anyone else drives me crazy. But I suppose it's not right that I assume you won't... that you won't..."

Jessimyn set her hand on Alistair's leg. "Alistair," she said. "From the moment I saw you again in Highever, there's been only you. As for my heart, there's only _ever_ been you. As much as I may try to fight it, as much as I know it would be easier for both of us if it were not the case, I love you." She looked away. "I feel like I'm fighting my feelings all the time. I try to tell myself that I don't care that I can't be with you as I want. You've told me before that you want all of me? Well, I want the same from you. I know it's not possible, but it doesn't stop me from wanting it, nor does it stop it from hurting to know I can't have that. Can't have you."

Alistair pulled her close. "We may not be able to be together as we wish, but you have all of my heart, Jess. You always have."

She trailed a finger up his leg. "I'd like to have all of the rest of you, too," she said with a coy smile.

"Oh?" Alistair grinned. "And would Kyran approve of such activities?"

"I don't know," said Jessimyn, standing up. "Maybe I'll go ask him." She smiled at him and took a few steps toward the door.

Alistair stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her to him. One hand wrapped around her waist, while the other went up into her hair. "I don't think I've ever been so scared in all my life," he said. "To think that I could lose you like that..." He pressed his face to her hair, and Jessimyn put her arms lightly around his waist. They held each other for a while, and then he leaned back, kissing her lightly down the side of her face as he began undoing the buttons of her blouse. When her shirt was opened, he ran his hands around her breasts before pausing to trace a finger around her scar.

Jessimyn shivered. "It's still a little tender."

Alistair leaned down, kissing her on the neck. "Would you rather we... wait? We don't have to..."

Jessimyn cut off his words with a kiss. "Let's just see how it goes," she said.

He ran his hands up her chest, then over her shoulders to push her blouse down to hang from the crooks of her elbows. As she started on the buttons of his shirt, Alistair pulled at the laces on Jessimyn's trousers. He slid them down her legs, then placed his hands on her bottom and lifted her up to set her on the edge of her desk. She watched as he pulled his shirt off, then kicked off his boots. Alistair ran his hands up and down her legs before gripping her knees to spread her legs apart. He then sank to his knees in front of her.

Jessimyn watched as he lifted one of her legs, placing kisses on her ankle, then up to her knee, up her thigh. He settled himself between her legs and looked up at her before his tongue darted out. Shivers ran up and down her spine as he licked her, and she draped a leg over his shoulder. Alistair stroked her legs with his hands, then brought a hand up to slide a finger inside her.

"Maker," she gasped as she pulled lightly at his hair. She leaned back on her elbows, arching her back as he thrust his finger in and out. She could feel the tension building and closed her eyes. "Faster," she gasped, and Alistair complied. She cried out as her whole body shuddered, and then she collapsed back onto the desk.

Alistair kissed his way up her body. When Jessimyn opened her eyes, he was grinning at her. "So how was that?" He asked. "Too much?"

She laughed and held out her hand, which Alistair took and pulled her upright. "Would you like to go back to my room?" She asked, but he shook his head.

"No... let's stay here," he said as he began unlacing his breeches.

She could tell he was already fully aroused, and once he removed his breeches, she reached to stroke his length. Alistair grabbed her under her knees and puller her just a little bit further forward, so that she was just barely balancing on the edge of the desk. He then slid one of his hands forward so that her knee rested on top of the inside of his elbow.

"Is this all right?" He asked, and when she nodded, he slid inside her.

He moved slowly at first, and Jessimyn could tell he was watching her for any signs of discomfort. She leaned back on her elbows again, and he reached to run his hand over her stomach. His fingers traced little circles around her navel. She lifted her hips up into the air as he began thrusting faster. Finally, he let out a groan, and Jessimyn could feel his body tense as he leaned forward, placing a hand on the desk next to her. She smiled as she looked up at him.

"Sit up," he said once he caught his breath.

When she was upright, he wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, Jess," he whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair. "I love you."

"I know," she said, and she felt his body rumble with laughter.

Alistair slowly slid out of her and took a step back. When she didn't stand up, he said with a grin, "Do you need help getting up?"

Jessimyn laughed. "No, but I may need help _cleaning_ up." She pointed to a cabinet on the far wall, where she kept her tea set. "There are towels in there, if you would be so kind."

She admired his body as he walked over to get it, and when he handed her the towel, she said, "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Alistair actually blushed a little at that. "Hey, now. No stealing my lines."

Once they were dressed again, Alistair said, "Now we can go to your rooms, if you wish." He took her hand and led Jessimyn back to her sitting room, where he pulled her into his lap. They sat like that for a long time, with their arms around each other. "You know," Alistair said finally. "I don't mean to be morbid or anything, but... when I heard you were hurt, I was reminded of Duncan, of how I felt when he..." He squeezed her tight. "I guess I've always had it in my head that, when our time comes, we'll go off to the Deep Roads together. The thought of living without you... I really don't know what I would do. Those two years you were gone were the hardest years of my life." He touched her chin. "And I've had some hard years. I lived in a stable, remember? I didn't live the soft life of a pampered noble, you know. Oh, no offense, of course." Alistair grinned, and he laughed when she poked him.

"Promise me you won't go falling on any more swords. Promise me..." his voice grew serious as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Promise me you won't leave me. Promise me you'll stay with me, for the years that we have. Just... promise me you'll be there with me, in the end."

Jessimyn looked into his eyes, her heart pounding. "I... I promise."

Alistair pulled her head to his, kissing her deeply. She felt his tongue pressing against her lips, and she opened her mouth in response.

"I think..." he said, sounding a little out of breath. "I think perhaps we got dressed too quickly..."


	33. Zevran Chapter 33

Zevran sat outside, sharpening his weapons. Alistair had arrived an hour earlier, and his guards were still standing mutely outside Jessimyn's barracks. He knew that Kyran had finally pronounced her fit enough to be out of bed that morning, so he could easily imagine what she and the king were doing in there. Probably something that involved that bed she was so eager to be rid of. The thought of them together bothered him more than he knew it should, but it was difficult to focus on anything else. It should be him in there with her... if only because they had things they needed to discuss. Of course, those were things he would likely never bring up with her. So perhaps it was fitting, that he was outside, and Alistair was in there with her.

"Hello, Zev."

He turned his head and smiled. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite bard. If you've come to visit our wounded hero, I'm afraid you will have to wait."

"Oh?" Leliana glanced over at the barracks. "Ah, I see. She is currently being entertained by our lovely king." She giggled.

Zevran rolled his eyes, letting out a soft grunt.

"Oh, someone is jealous, I see?" She sat down next to him, peering at him.

"Jealous? Me? No, that I am not, I assure you." He hesitated before continuing. "Leliana... I want to ask your opinion on something."

She gave him a wide grin. "You need advice? On women, perhaps?"

He laughed. "While I'm sure that would be very fun, trading stories with you... perhaps another time, yes? No, what I had in mind was more like... bard advice."

Leliana arched an eyebrow at him. "My curiosity is piqued. What's on your mind?"

He continued sharpening his weapons as he spoke. "I think there was more to our attack that it seemed at first. It was not just a random event, of that I am certain. Those men were waiting for us. I want to know why."

"What are your thoughts?" Leliana asked.

"They were not trying to rob us, as we had nothing they could steal, and they would not randomly attack two armed people without cause. I could perhaps believe they meant to steal from us had we been on our way _back_ from the armorer's, but that was not so. I want you to help me figure out what their aim was."

Leliana nodded, a smile creeping onto her face. "This sounds exciting. Where should we begin?"

Zevran stood up, then helped her to her feet. "I want to go back to the hideout, see if there's anything we missed."

They made their way back to the Crimson Oars' building. It looked to Zevran much as it had five days earlier. There were two little boys playing in the street nearby, but there were no other people to be seen. Once again, Zevran made a slow circuit of the building before going to the front door, which was still unlocked. When they went inside, Leliana immediately brought her sleeve up to cover her nose.

"Oh, it smells awful in here," she said.

Wrinkling his nose, Zevran looked around. "Yes, but the bodies are gone. At least, the one that had been by the door is. By the smell, they've been moved recently."

Exploration of the rest of the floor, along with the two lower levels, revealed that all of the bodies had indeed been removed, as had anything of value that had previously been there. Zevran cursed under his breath. "Well, there's nothing to find here now."

As they exited the building, Leliana walked over to the two little boys who were still playing out front. Zevran guessed them to be about ten years old, but he had never been around children much, so he usually assumed any child that wasn't a baby was about ten years old.

"Hello," Leliana said, crouching down next to the little boy with dark, curly hair. "I'm Leliana. What's your name?"

"Uhh... my name's Edin. This here's Kade," he said, pointing first to himself and then to his playmate. "You sure are pretty."

Leliana giggled. "Well aren't you sweet. My friend here and I are looking for some people who might have been in that building across the way. Have either of you seen anyone recently?"

Kade rushed to answer. "We did, we sure did! Ol' Jin was by just the other day. Had a buncha wagons out front, but I didn't see what was in 'em."

"Ah, yes. Jin is who we were looking for. But we're not from around here. Do you know where we might find him?" Leliana fluttered her eyelashes at the boys.

The boys started talking over each other, but then Edin elbowed Kade in the side so that he could speak. "Jin's got that shop, over on Willowbark Lane. Sells pieces of plants and stuff in bottles."

Leliana clapped her hands together. "Oh my, both of you have been so helpful to us today. Thank you both so much!" She leaned in, kissing them both on the cheek. The boys goggled at each other, silly grins on their faces, as Leliana led Zevran away.

He grinned at her. "You never fail to impress me," he said.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. "I am a rather impressive woman, yes."

Together, they found their way to Willowbark Lane. It was near market district, and it was lined with a number of shops. They asked the first they came to where they might find Jin and were pointed to a building near the end. A sign out front showed a mortar and pestle. Leliana giggled.

"Pieces of plants and stuff in bottles. Jin's an apothecary, of course. Let's go see what he has to say, yes?"

Once they got to the building, they stopped and peered in the window. There was a small, balding man standing behind a counter. As they went inside, Zevran got a better look at the man and saw that his face was bruised, and he had a cut on his lower lip.

"Welcome, friends. Welcome to..." Jin began, but when he got a look at Zevran, his eyes widened and he took two steps back until he bumped into the wall behind him. "You! Look, I don't want anymore trouble, all right? I got no argument with you, right? I was just doin' my job." He held his hands up to cover his face.

Interesting. Zevran smiled. "You seem to know me, yet we have never met. Why is this? And what happened to your face?"

Jin peeked at him between his fingers. "You don't... but it has to be you. There can't be that many blonde, Antivan elves in the city, especially with tattoos like that."

Zevran and Leliana exchanged a look. "So you were given my description, then. Why?"

"I... I..."

Zevran was on him in a flash, gripping Jin by the shirt. "Are you a member of the Crimson Oars? Why were you sent to kill us? And who sent you?"

"No, I..." Jin's eyes were wild. "I'm not an Oar, I just... please, I'm just a merchant."

"I'd suggest you start talking, or you'll soon be a _dead_ merchant," said Zevran.

"Now, now," said Leliana. "There's no need to kill him. I imagine just cutting of a finger or two should do the job." She gave a smile that was all too sweet.

"No!" Jin shouted, his face going pale. "I'll talk, please... please don't hurt me. I have a family, I have children..." He took a few deep breaths, and seeing the expectant looks Leliana and Zevran were giving him, he began. "I'm not an Oar, but they... provide protection for me. For a price. They put it out there that I'm the man to go to, if you want something done. I just pass along the messages. About a week and a half ago, a man came in here, gave me your description, said you needed to be..." He visibly swallowed. "...to be taken care of. He said you'd stolen something from the king."

Even more interesting. "But just me," said Zevran. "You weren't told about a woman as well?"

"No, look... that was a mistake. This... this man gave me ten sovereigns, with forty more promised once the job was done. I passed the word to the Oars, and they... did what they do. You... you were supposed to be alone. The woman wasn't supposed to be there."

"And your bruises?" Leliana asked.

"The man, he... he came back. Said the job wasn't done, said the Oars had almost killed a noblewoman. He... he wanted his gold back. I gave it all back, but he still left me with these." He gestured to the marks on his face.

Zevran frowned. "He didn't want you to try again?"

"No, look... I'm not an Oar, I tell you. I just pass along the messages. The Oars... they're almost all dead. The man, he just wanted his gold back."

"What did he look like?" Zevran asked.

"He... well, he wasn't very tall. Probably just a little bit taller than you, but human. Dark, black hair, but I'm pretty sure it was a wig. Big nose, but that might've been fake, too. Uh... skinny... dressed in plain clothing, but it wasn't dirty, and his boots were fine leather."

Leliana smiled. "Looks like you might be worth something to us after all. When did the man come back?"

"Four days ago. He... said I was lucky he didn't kill me. Said that, even though I gave the gold back, I still owed him, that he'd be back for my repayment sometime, to be ready for him." Jin was visibly shaking, and Zevran released his hold on the man.

"You've been most helpful, thank you," said Leliana, smiling at the man.

Zevran smirked, wondering if she would kiss Jin on the cheek as well, but she just grabbed Zevran by the arm and pulled him from the shop. They didn't speak until they were well away from the street. She started circling around various streets and buildings, and Zevran realized she was making sure they weren't being followed. Finally, they stopped, and she turned to him.

"So they were after you, not Jess."

Zevran grimaced. "Yes, apparently. But why? And who sent them?"

"You don't think it was the Crows?" She asked.

Zevran shook his head. "No. For one, I spent a very long time in Antiva. All attempts they made at coming after me failed. But even should they suddenly renew an interest in seeing me dead, they wouldn't hire such a group. No style, no finesse for those Crimson Oars. That is not the Crows' way." He smiled. "And they would not insult me so by implying that my life is only worth fifty sovereigns."

"Then who?"

"Ah, yes, that is an interesting question, is it not?" Zevran tapped his chin. "Let us walk some more while we think on it."

They wandered through the city, finally making it out the gates. The western side of Denerim was surrounded by a number of low hills, and they walked up to the top of one that gave them a good view of the city below. Once on top, they sat. Zevran's mind was whirling. Who would want him dead? And who would have known so quickly that the Crimson Oars had failed in their mission to kill him? Leliana sat silently, watching him.

"I have only been back in Ferelden a very short while," Zevran began. "Hardly enough time to make enemies who would wish me dead. What interests me, though, is what that man Jin said. He said he was told that I had stolen something from the king. A fascinating little piece of information, that. If you are hiring an assassin, it is usually not necessary to give a reason why you want someone dead. However, as these Oars seemed to have only recently turned to assassination, perhaps they feel the need to justify their killing?" He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

Leliana grinned. "And have you stolen something from the king?"

Zevran laughed. "What does he have, that I would want to steal? It is very possible that it is just an excuse given, made up from nothing, but let's assume for now that something was actually meant by it, that someone feels I have taken something from Alistair. What might it be?"

"Surely it's not a physical thing," said Leliana. "You've only been to the palace once since you've been back, and that was for the festival."

"Perhaps someone feels I've stolen a place at court? Stolen the king's favor? But Alistair and I rarely speak, and I doubt any would think I hold any influence over him." Zevran frowned, thinking back to the festival and the angry looks he had received while he was there. But were any of them from people who would want him dead? Then a thought struck him. "What if... Leliana, what if what I am supposed to have stolen is not a some_thing_, but is rather a some_one_?"

"Jessimyn," said Leliana after a moment, and Zevran nodded.

"Our minds are traveling the same path, it would seem. Let's walk a bit further, shall we? Let's say someone has noticed my..." He rolled his hand, as if hesitating to use the word. "...relationship with our lovely Grey Warden hero. This would also have to be someone who knows about the relationship she has with the king, in order to imply that I had _stolen_ her from him. That would be a fairly limited group of people I would think."

Leliana pressed her lips together. "Perhaps. I have heard no talk of it at the palace, and I would think I would have, if rumors were swirling about. Bards do get all the good gossip, after all. But it might not be someone from the palace. All the time he spends with her in the compound, surely there are some who are not fooled into thinking they spend hours looking at ledgers, yes?"

Zevran grinned. "But I have not noticed any murderous glances from any of the Grey Wardens, or from any of the possibles. And even if any of them knew anything about the three of us, why care enough to try to have me killed? Why care at all?"

Leliana nodded her head. "It is a large assumption, that someone would want you dead for being too close to Jessimyn."

"Ah," said Zevran. "For being to close to her when that someone feels she should instead be close to Alistair." He shook his head. "I can think of only two people who might have strong enough feelings to wish me dead for that."

Leliana smiled. "Ooh, let me guess!" She screwed up her face, as if deep in thought, and Zevran laughed. "The most obvious person would be Alistair himself... though I hate to even think such a thing of him."

Zevran nodded. "I would hate to think it as well, but yes, that would be one of the two."

Leliana nodded. "If he was jealous enough of the time she spends with you, I suppose it is a possibility. I would think he would have better resources than a local group of would-be assassins, though."

"And I would hope he would pay more for it as well."

Leliana laughed. "But Alistair is too much of a softie for such things. Besides," she added, and Zevran couldn't help but think she was watching him too closely, looking for a reaction. "He seems to share her bed often enough, so why would he feel threatened by you? Unless, since you've been back, the two of you have..."

"Not since I've been back, no," he said, and Leliana smiled.

"No, he may be the jealous type, but I do not see Alistair as the murderous sort," Leliana concluded. "Besides, I cannot imagine him doing anything that would upset Jessimyn, and surely she would be, if she knew he tried to have you killed."

"I know," said Zevran. "And he... thanked me, for getting her back safely. No, it would make sense if it was Alistair, but it doesn't feel right."

"So then the other..." Leliana arched an eyebrow. "Would that perhaps be Jessimyn's ever so charming older brother?"

Zevran smiled. "You are good at this game. Yes, that would be the other possibility, and one I see as being more likely. He has made his dislike for me well known. However, he would seem to lack the same motivation as Alistair. I know he thinks it beneath her, for his sister to be spending time with an elf, but she also spends time with a mage, and I haven't seen any attempts on Kyran's life."

"You know he wanted Jessimyn and Alistair to marry, yes?" Leliana asked.

Zevran nodded. "That is true. Perhaps he sees himself able to have the same political sway, if she is the king's mistress instead of his queen? And that sway would go away were she to move from Alistair's bed to mine." He frowned. "The problem here, though, is that we have to just accept some basic assumptions to even consider either of these choices. But not only that, we're talking about the two people in all of Thedas that Jessimyn..." He stumbled a little on the next word. "...loves the most."

Leliana said, "Which is why you're not going to say anything to her about this, I imagine."

"Quite so, yes. What would she say, to know I suspect either her lover or her brother of nearly killing her? Accidentally, of course."

"It would almost be funny," said Leliana. "Were it true. To think that someone may have almost killed her, trying to protect her from you." She frowned. "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know. I need to think."

Leliana's voice was gentle as she asked, "If you were to prove it, either way, if you found out it was either Alistair or Fergus who was behind it, would you tell her?"

He grimaced. "I... don't know. For now, I just want to know for my sake. To know who to protect myself from, if nothing else." He sat silently for a while, when an idea came to him.

When he shared it with Leliana, she nodded in agreement. "I suppose that might work, but it will be risky. And Jessimyn's brother leaves the day after tomorrow to go back to Highever."

Zevran sighed. "I guess it will have to be tonight, then."

Leliana nodded again. "Then let's get back. We need time to prepare."


	34. Zevran Chapter 34

Zevran stood in the shadows, amidst a large group of trees. He had seen no people in the hour he'd been standing there, but he still took all precautions to keep himself hidden. Finally he was rewarded for his patience when he saw movement coming towards him.

"There you are," he said. "I was beginning to think you changed your mind."

Leliana shifted the bundle in her hands. "What you asked of me took time, Zev. Did you expect me to just walk into one of the servant's rooms and steal their clothes?"

He grinned at her. "Isn't that what you did?"

She pouted. "Well... yes, but I had to take great care that I wasn't seen." She handed him the pack, and Zevran began pulling the contents out to inspect them. "Plus, I had to find makeup to cover your tattoos, and something for your hair."

"Uhhh... Leliana, my dear?"

"Yes, Zev?"

"This is a dress." He held up the clothing.

"And difficult it was to find one that might fit you, I might add. But I have a good eye for these things, so it should work." She smiled at him, all too sweetly.

"Hmm... yes, but _why_ have you brought me a dress? I don't remember that being part of the plan."

Leliana began pulling the other things from the bag. "Yes, but think about it. When the people in the palace see you, they will only see a female, elven servant. That will make you all but invisible to the eyes of the nobles. Besides, all the male servants in the palace have short hair. If you'd rather cut yours, I could go back and find you something different for you to wear." She laughed when he grimaced at her. "That's what I thought. Instead, I brought you a kerchief to wear. Many of the women servants wear them. Plus, it will seem less odd for you to follow me in as a woman."

Zevran gave a great, dramatic sigh. "Very well. But we tell no one of this, understood?"

Leliana giggled. "Who would even believe me?"

He muttered under his breath and began removing his clothing. Leliana leaned against a nearby tree, watching him intently. Well, if she wanted to gawk, let her gawk. However, he wasn't expecting the gasp that escaped her lips when he removed his breeches. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"No wonder she likes you so much," she said admiringly.

"Who?" Zevran asked, much too quickly, and he cursed himself when he saw her satisfied smile.

"Ah ha, so you _are_ interested in her, then. I thought as much."

Zevran scoffed. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, my dear." He pulled the dress over his head. "Now help me button this. Why are you laughing?"

"The buttons go in the front, Zevran," Leliana managed to get out between giggles.

Letting out a few more choice curses, Zevran finally got the dress on and buttoned. He then pulled the kerchief on over his hair. "Won't this just draw more attention to my face?" He asked. "Seems it might be better to let my hair hang down."

Leliana shook her head. "Just keep your eyes down, and no one will look at your face. Most women keep their hair covered, so having yours loose would actually draw more attention. Now hold still while I cover up your tattoos."

He titled his face up, allowing her to apply her paints to his face. He scowled, seeing the smile on her face. She was obviously enjoying this too much. Finally she was done, and she stood back to survey her work.

"Perfect," she said. "You look just like every other elven woman in the palace."

"Wonderful," Zevran muttered. "Let's get this over with."

Leliana led the way back to the palace, Zevran at her heels. He clutched the bag to his chest, keeping his eyes down. To any who might see them, it would seem Zevran was just some servant girl, following the bard on an errand. The made it through the gates with no trouble. Leliana stopped briefly to flirt with one of the guards, but they didn't so much as glance at Zevran at all. That was good. She led him through a number of hallways, and he kept track of which way they turned. He wanted to know the fastest way out, should it come to that. They finally stopped in front of a door. Leliana placed a key in the lock, and they went inside.

"So now we wait some more, I suppose," he said.

"The feast is set to start in a couple hours. Once it does, you'll be on your own. All of the nobles will be there, though, so you should have little worry that you'll encounter anyone in the halls who might recognize you. Once I leave, wait half an hour, and then leave my room." She pulled out a piece of paper and a charcoal pencil and began to sketch. "This is where we are now. This hall here leads down this way and forks. To the left are the main meeting and dining halls. Stay away from that end. Instead, you want to go down this way, up the stairs at the end of the hall, and that's where the nobles' apartments are." She made an X on the map she was drawing. "This is where Fergus' room is. It's the... the third door on the right. Teyrn Wulff's apartments are through the second door on the left. He has already gone, so that would probably be your best place to hide, should it come to that."

"But will there be anyone else in his rooms?" Zevran asked.

Leliana frowned. "That is where the danger comes in. He has the one manservant who stays in his apartments with him. I cannot say if he will be in the rooms or not, while Fergus is at the feast."

"So... I just knock on the door and run away, then see if he comes to answer it?"

Leliana laughed. "A crude but effective method, yes. But most of the nobles' personal servants eat in the lower kitchens. Such meals tend to last a long time, especially when their masters and mistresses are feasting, since they know they have time before they will be needed again. All we can do is hope that his manservant will be in attendance tonight."

Zevran nodded. "When I'm done, regardless of what I find, I will make my way out of the palace as quickly as I can."

"Yes, as well you should. I can learn what you find later. Well, I suppose I should start getting ready." She frowned. "Turn around while I change."

Zevran laughed. "You got to watch me, so it's only fair that I watch you."

She pursed her lips and turned her back to him. That didn't bother Zevran any, as he was sure the view from one side was just as good as the other, and he made sure to let her know. However, the process soon became boring for him, as she fiddled with her hair and makeup. "Stop pacing," she told him. "You're making me nervous."

Finally, it was time for her to leave. "Remember," she said. "Wait at least half an hour before you leave. And try to make sure no one sees you leaving my room."

Once she was gone, Zevran resumed his pacing. After waiting a suitable amount of time, he opened her door just a crack. He could see no one in either direction, so he quickly exited her room. Keeping his head down, he weaved his way down the hallway and up the stairs. Sure enough, there were only servants about, and none of them seemed to pay any attention to any of the others. Once he got to the hallway where the teyrns apartments were, he moved to the one that belonged to Teyrn Wulff. The lock was easy enough to pick, and he ducked inside. He waited ten minutes, but no servants came down the hallway. Surely that was a good sign that most were in the kitchens.

Zevran exited the room, then walked over to Fergus' door. He knocked loudly, then darted across the hallway to hide. He left the door open just a crack and watched, but no one answered his knock. To be safe, he tried one more time, but there was still no answer. With a quick check down both sides of the hallway, Zevran picked the lock to Fergus' rooms and ducked inside. His eyes immediately sought out a place to hide, and he darted behind a chair that sat in the corner of the room. If there was anyone inside, they would have had to hear the door opening, but again there was no sign of anyone. He stood up, relocked the door, and took in the lay of the rooms.

There were two hallways to either side, with doors on each side of each hall, as well as doors on the ends. He moved to the hallway on the left. All of the rooms on that side were lushly decorated, but he could tell they hadn't been used in some time. A quick check of the armoires, the chests, and under the beds revealed nothing, so he moved to the hallway on the right. In that hallway, he looked in the room on the right first. It looked much as the others had, as though it hadn't been used in a long time, and it also contained nothing of interest. However, the room across the hall from it was clearly Fergus' room.

A large, open chest sat at the end of the bed. Zevran carefully poked through it, but it contained only clothing. In fact, it seemed like everything was filled with clothing. He found it hard to believe that one person could own so much, and this was just what the man had brought with him. A cluttered dressing table sat against the side wall, but it only contained the usual toiletries. Zevran found himself feeling very disappointed. He wasn't sure what exactly he had been hoping to find, but he had been hoping for something. He wondered if he was looking at the wrong man as he went into the last room.

The room at the end of the hallway obviously housed Fergus' manservant. There was significantly more clutter in the much smaller room. In the corner was a stand that held Fergus' armor and sword, and there was only one chest that contained clothing, although it was rather large. The narrow bed had been pushed up against the far wall, and the only other items in the room were a small table near the bed, and a small dresser next to that. In the top drawer of the dresser were all sorts of writing utensils. Papers, pens, ink, charcoal pencils, wax sticks, and a large metal seal were arranged neatly, but it was nothing that interested Zevran.

The second drawer contained a number of small purses. That seemed odd to Zevran, that such things would be kept in a servant's room. He picked up a few of them, testing their weight. None of them were empty, and opening one revealed that they were indeed filled with money. Very odd indeed. However, the bottom drawer was the most interesting of all. It contained a large kit, similar to the one Leliana had used to cover his tattoos. Why would a manservant have a makeup kit, unless he had a habit of disguising himself?

Zevran suddenly felt very nervous. He would be trapped in this tiny room, should anyone suddenly return, and he realized there was really no place to hide. The bed provided the only cover, but not by much. His heart began to beat faster, and he knew he needed to leave soon. He wanted to check one more thing, though, before he went.

The chest of clothing did not disappoint as Zevran began sifting through it. While most of the clothing was suitable for a servant of a high noble, there were other things in there as well that didn't seem to fit. There were two sets of very grubby clothing, almost like something a beggar would wear. There were also some very fine sets of clothing, things that Zevran wouldn't have been surprised to find in Fergus' room. However, when he had everything removed from the chest, he frowned. He ran one hand along the inside of the chest, while the other ran down the outside. It was considerably shallower than it should have been. His nimble fingers trailed all along the bottom edges of the chest, and he was rewarded when he felt the tiny catch. Prying at it with his fingernail allowed him to open the false bottom.

What he found there was the most interesting find of all. Six small, stoppered bottles had been carefully wrapped and placed inside. Four of them had wax sealing the stoppers closed, as if their contents were dangerous. Zevran opened one of the other two that weren't sealed and waved it below his nose. Whatever it was, it clearly contained deathroot. He carefully restoppered it and wrapped it back up, certain to put it back exactly as he found it. He then turned his attention to the many small envelopes in the bottom of the chest. For most of them, he had no idea what they contained, but there were a few he recognized by sight or smell. One contained nightshade, while another held wolfsbane, both strong poisons. The other that he recognized, though, contained satyrion, a powerful aphrodisiac. A strange combination.

Suddenly, Zevran heard a noise. He froze, realizing that the door to the apartments had opened and closed. The contents of the chest were spread out all over, and there was no way he could get everything back inside quickly enough. He ghosted over to the corner, where the armor and sword rested. Wrapping his hand around the pommel of the sword, he held it up and ready. The footsteps got closer and closer, but then he heard the door to Fergus' room open.

The seconds seemed to drag as Zevran held perfectly still. His arms began to ache, but he didn't dare set the sword down. He could hear noises coming from the room next to the one he was in. Then suddenly all was silent. Zevran frowned. Had he moved something in the room? Had it been noticed? Would the door to the servant's room crash open? Would Zevran be forced to kill whoever came through the door? He would, of course, but he did not wish to. Not yet, anyway, not like this. After a moment, he heard movement in the hallway as the door to Fergus' room closed. There was another pause, but then the footsteps were retreating. When he heard the main door of the apartments open and close, Zevran released the breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. He waited, counting to a thousand before he moved. As quickly as he could, he replaced the contents of the chest, careful to put everything back just as he'd found it.

He moved quickly to the front door, pressing his ear to it. There was no noise in the hallway, so he opened the door just a crack. When he was certain it was clear, he quickly exited the room, hurrying down the hallway as fast as he could without running. He began to breathe easy as he made it to the bottom of the stairs, pleased with himself that he had made it in and out of Fergus' room without anyone knowing, but when he got to the turn in the hallway, he froze.

He must have taken longer than he thought, for a number of the nobles were spilling out of the dining room on the end. Most of them went straight into the meeting hall next door, but Zevran just happened to look up at the exact moment Alistair came through the doorway. The king's eyes passed over him, but they jerked back as recognition struck. For a moment, Zevran was afraid the king would come charging at him, but he didn't. Alistair had the queen on his arm, and she was laughing with someone next to her as they moved through the doorway, but Alistair's eyes never left Zevran's face as he was pulled away.

Zevran cursed his luck, but there was nothing to be done about it then. He hadn't been sure he was even going to say anything about any of this to Alistair, but it looked like silence would no longer be an option. He made sure to keep his head down as he hurried out the way he had come in, back to where his clothes were waiting for him.


	35. Jessimyn Chapter 35

The sun was just barely peeking through the window when Jessimyn rolled out of bed. She only hesitated a moment before strapping on her armor. She knew Kyran wouldn't be happy with her, were he to see her in it, but she couldn't be bothered with that just then. After she strapped her weapons to her back, she exited the barracks. No one else was awake yet, that she could see. That was good. She didn't want anyone following her. Jessimyn only took a moment to grab a loaf of bread and some apples from the kitchens before leaving the compound.

She passed few people on the streets at that hour as she made her way north through the city to the river. Knowing that she would have time to think once she got where she was going, she kept alert, watching for any signs of trouble, but she saw none. Once she made it to the Drakon River, she followed it east to the docks, then turned north again until she was out of the city. She had been walking for well over an hour before she finally found a place worth stopping. There were some hills near the shore, overlooking the ocean. They were not quite the bluffs she was used to in Highever, but it was nice enough.

She looked down at the ocean. Highever had few beaches, and she found the ones in Denerim to be very pretty, a thin sandy line that cut between the earth and the sea. From where she stood, she could see the waves lapping at the shore, and gulls flew overhead, darting down to make a grab at something on the ground. It was all very peaceful, but Jessimyn felt no peace. She felt torn inside, like she was splitting into two people, two very different people who didn't like each other very much, two people who wouldn't stop arguing in her head.

It was already warm, and Jessimyn took off her boots before lying down in the grass. There was a light breeze, and she could hear the songbirds singing from the trees nearby. This was what she needed, to be away from the city, away from the noise, away from everything. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She needed to think.

"What am I doing?" She whispered softly to herself. That was a question that had haunted her for the past five years, but it was also the one that had kept her from sleeping the night before. The guilt she could normally keep at bay was battering at her defenses, and Jessimyn let it wash over her. What would her parents say, if they could see her now? How disappointed would they be in her actions? She sat up suddenly, drawing her knees up to rest her chin upon them. "Family, duty, honor," she said aloud. Those words had been repeated over and over, but what did they really mean?

Family. In a way, she had failed her family the minute she went through the Joining. She could not provide a Cousland heir, of that she was certain. Luckily, there was Fergus. It chilled her to think that anything might happen to him. He had children, yes, but he was the head of the family now, and all responsibility fell on his shoulders. Had she been a dutiful sister to him? After all, he blamed her for their parents' deaths.

"_Family is the most important thing, Jess," her father would say._

Yet she had left them to die, left them behind for Howe's dogs to kill, as she ran off to join the Grey Wardens. But then, were the Wardens not her family now? She didn't feel like she'd been acting as the dutiful sister to the Wardens, either. She should be in Amaranthine, she knew, yet she remained in Denerim. Jessimyn tried to rationalize it away, saying that she was there to help out with the possibles, but that wasn't really the truth, she knew deep down. She was there for one thing only. She was there for Alistair.

Duty. _"When duty calls, you must answer, pup."_

She had been ignoring her duty for too long now, from the moment she left Weisshaupt. She had tarried too long in Antiva, purely for her own selfish reasons, and now that same selfishness kept her in Denerim. Her duty was to rebuild the order. She should be out recruiting, or helping with the training in Amaranthine. She should be scouting in the south, from where they'd heard all sorts of rumors of disorganized darkspawn attacks. Instead, she had become complacent, all so that she could continue fucking the king.

Honor. _"A man or woman who has no honor has no worth, pup. As Couslands, we have a duty to be honorable. Our people look up to us. You must live a life you can be proud of, one that will make others proud to know you, proud to serve you."_

Jessimyn was not proud. She was ashamed. Her decision not to marry Alistair had been an honorable fulfillment of her duty, but what good was that when she countered it by becoming his mistress. The word galled her, yet she forced herself to think of herself that way. After all, that's what she had become, had she not? Where was the honor in that? She distracted him, kept him from his wife, kept him from his own duty as a king. When Lyrina finally became pregnant, would Jessimyn continue to keep him from his family? Would he forsake his time with his child to spend with her? That was not fair, to Lyrina or their future child, nor to Alistair, either.

She loved him, of that she had no doubt. It was likely she always would, but he was not hers to love, not anymore. She had lost him, but then...

"He was never mine to lose," she said bitterly.

Jessimyn shook her head. She would not allow herself to wallow in despair. She would not look at herself as a martyr any longer. She had become a thief, taking what was not hers. It didn't matter if Alistair was willing to give her his love. It was not hers to take. Could she really continue to live this lie, pretending to be an honorable, dutiful Grey Warden when she was letting her life be ruled by her own selfish desires?

The promise she had made to Alistair the day before made Jessimyn ache. Why had he asked such a thing of her, but more importantly, why had she consented? Of course they couldn't be together. Not now, anyway. Maybe in another twenty-five years, but not now. With a sigh, Jessimyn stood up and picked up her boots. She was surprised to see how much the sun had moved across the sky. It had to be near midday, but she felt little rush to get back to the compound. Another lapse in fulfilling her duty, she supposed.

Instead of heading straight back to the city, Jessimyn walked down to the beach. Walking along the edge of the water, she let her bare toes squish into the sand. She almost laughed, wondering what she had to look like just then, her armored boots held in her arms, leggings pulled up to her knees. Setting the boots on the ground, she waded out into the water, until the water came up just over her knees, wetting the leggings. Her fingers skimmed across the top of the water, and she turned back to the shore. The gulls were attacking the bread she had brought with her, the bread she'd forgotten about, and she suddenly realized how hungry she was.

Taking a deep breath, Jessimyn went back to the shore, put on her boots, and headed back to the compound. There was considerably more life in the city as she made her way south, but she got back quickly enough. As she headed to her barracks, Kyran came out of the mess hall. Upon seeing her, he frowned and made his way over to her.

"Where have you been? And why are you in armor? You're still supposed to be taking it easy."

She smiled. In a way, he reminded her a little of Fergus. He was just as protective, though not nearly as arrogant. "I know," she conceded. "I'm going to change out of it, and then I'm going to eat. After that... would you please join me in my office? I have something I wish to discuss."

He gave her a suspicious look but agreed to her request, and Jessimyn went inside to change. Once she was back in her blouse and trousers, she went over to the mess hall. She piled a plate high with every food she could find, scarfed it down, then went back for seconds. She looked up as Zevran sat down next to her.

"Someone was up early this morning," he said. "I came to bring you breakfast, but you were already gone." He waited for a response from her, but Jessimyn just nodded and continued eating. "Where... did you go?"

Jessimyn arched an eyebrow at him. "Am I not allowed to take some time to myself, to run my own errands?"

Zevran laughed, but it sounded almost... nervous? That was odd. "Of course, my dear Jessimyn. I was just curious... have you seen Alistair this morning?"

She almost choked on her food. Why was he asking her that? Maybe she really _was _spending too much time with Alistair, if Zevran thought she was in his company so often. "No, I have not. Nor do I expect to." Nor did she hope to, for that matter.

"Ah, good." He forced a laugh. "I mean... I'll let you get back to your meal."

He was up and gone before she could respond. Jessimyn peered after him, shaking her head. That was definitely strange, but she had other things to worry about just then. She finished eating, cleaned up, and went back to her office. She'd only just sat down at her desk when Kyran entered.

He stood by the door, arms crossed. "I know I cannot tell you what to do," he said. "And I know you feel better, but you are not yet fully healed. I'd hate for you to reinjure yourself. It is difficult to heal a wound that has already been healed."

Jessimyn smiled at him, nodding. "I know, Kyran. I'm sorry. I have not been overexerting myself. I just... needed to go for a walk, and I didn't want to be outside of the city without my armor." She gestured to a chair. "Please, sit."

Kyran sat in front of her, looking wary. "Is something wrong?" He asked.

"I actually was hoping to get your... impressions on something. What do you think of what we're doing here, in Denerim? At the compound."

"With the possibles, you mean?" He asked.

"Well, that, yes, but not _just_ that. I mean everything, really."

He frowned. "I... think it's a good thing. I don't see why we shouldn't give the possibles a chance. I don't think you send anyone on who's not worthy of it. Why... why do you want to know?"

"Just humor me," she said, keeping her voice casual.

Kyran looked down. "I... I guess sometimes I feel like I don't do enough. I'm no weapon master. I can't help with any of the training. I guess maybe... I don't like that I only feel useful when someone gets hurt. But that doesn't mean I don't support and believe in what we're doing here."

Jessimyn nodded. "I've worried about that. I've worried that there's not enough for you here, in Denerim." She tapped her fingers on the desk. "I've decided to send Tivven to Amaranthine, to go through the Joining. I'm going to send the other three home."

Kyran seemed a little confused at the change of topic, but he nodded. "I think Tivven is ready. I'm sure the other three will be disappointed, especially Will, but I agree that it's for the best. None of the others could compare to Theon, and he..."

"I know," Jessimyn agreed. She was surprised by the sadness she saw in the mage's eyes. "I want Tivven to be ready to go in a week, and..." She leaned forward, watching Kyran. "...I want you to go, too. To Amaranthine."

His eyesbrows shot up. "Me? But... my place is with you. I really think that I should..."

"I know," Jessimyn said again. "I'll be going as well."


	36. Alistair Chapter 36

Alistair waited two days before sending the summons. He had wanted to rush to the compound the morning after he'd seen Zevran in the palace, but he knew he had been spending too much time there lately, and he didn't want to give people any more reason to talk than he already had. Not only that, but he wanted to wait until all the nobles who had been there for the Landsmeet had gone home... well, that and to see if a body suddenly showed up in the palace. Luckily that had not happened, so once all the guests had gone, Alistair sent a page to the compound to tell Zevran to see him immediately.

He didn't understand the secrecy to it all. Zevran would have been allowed entrance into the palace, had he requested it. Most of the guardsmen at the gates knew him by reputation and description, if not by sight, and if he had been there to see someone, they would not have barred his way. There would have been no real reason to show up in a disguise. No, the fact that he had been there when he was, when all of the nobles were otherwise occupied, it could not be a coincidence. He was there for a reason, and Alistair would find out what that reason was.

"Zevran Arainai to see you, sire," said a guardsman at the door to his sitting room.

Alistair gestured to the man, and Zevran was shown in. The assassin swept his cloak to the side, bowing elaborately.

"Leave us," Alistair told his guard, and the man left, closing the door behind him. Alistair pointed to a chair. "Sit," he said.

Zevran smiled at the king. "Shall I roll over as well? Play dead, perhaps?"

"That may indeed be a possibility," said Alistair. "But first, I want answers. Why were you sneaking around the palace the other night... in a dress, no less?"

"No small talk first?" Zevran asked. "Do you not wish to ask me about my duties at the compound, talk about the fine weather we've been having lately, perhaps chat a little on Jessimyn's recovery?"

Alistair frowned. "No. Tell me why you skulking about the palace in a disguise. I am not so easily charmed by you as... others may be. I will know why you were trespassing."

"You may not be charmed," Zevran said. "But you're right. Others are. I was here visiting a lady friend of mine. With your little dinner going on, we thought it would be the perfect time for such a visit, as we would not be... interrupted."

Alistair was surprised by how much he wanted to believe this explanation. After all, if Zevran had a friend here in the palace, perhaps there really was no relationship between him and Jessimyn? Still, he had learned long ago not to accept the first excuse the assassin gave. There was always more to the story than he was willing to share. "Really? What's her name, then? How did you meet her? And that still wouldn't explain why you were in disguise."

"She is shy, and I don't think she would appreciate me talking of her to anyone, even you. I was in disguise so no one would think anything of it if they saw another woman going into her room."

Alistair crossed his arms. "I have a hard time believe you would go to such great lengths, just for sex."

Zevran's eyes narrowed a little as he smiled. "You mean you don't know why I'd do all that, when I could just as easily walk over to the women's barracks to give a certain brunette a tumble?"

Alistair's hands clenched down on the arms of his chair, and he gritted his teeth. "Don't think you can distract me so easily from my questions, Zevran. You wish to anger me, so that I will throw you out. It won't work. You _will_ tell me what you were doing here. The truth this time."

Zevran sighed, his face becoming very serious. "What would you do, if I told you something that might hurt your dear Jessimyn?" Alistair half-rose out of his chair, and Zevran held his hands up. "It is not _I _who would harm her, Alistair. This you know. Rather, what I meant... If you had information about something, what would you do with it, if you knew it would hurt her?"

Alistair's frown deepened. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

With a nonchalant roll of his wrist, Zevran said, "Something to do with the attack."

The king leaned forward in his chair. "What have you found? If there is a threat against her, surely she and I must both be made aware of it."

Zevran shook his head. "Not against her, no. Against me."

Alistair scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "Speak plainly, Zevran. You're going to tell me everything you know, so stop being so cryptic."

Zevran laughed. "I am, am I? Very well. I knew the attack was not random. There was too much that pointed to it being planned and staged, so I have investigated. What I've found is that the intended target was not our lovely Grey Warden, but rather me. I was the one someone wanted dead. Jessimyn just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Who?" Alistair asked. "The Crows?"

With a shake of his head, Zevran said, "No, it was not the Crows. Of that I am sure."

Alistair stood up and began pacing. "Then who?" He stopped, peering at Zevran. "Someone in the palace. That's why you were here, to... spy? Exact revenge? I have heard of no deaths, but I'm sure you know all about hiding bodies. Maker, Zevran. Who was it? How..."

Zevran cut him off. "I have killed no one... yet. In fact, I was not even certain of who was behind the attack, until..." He sighed. "I went back to the building, where the Crimson Oars had been hiding out. It had been cleaned up, and I found the man who had done the cleaning. Turns out he was a contact they used, to bring in possible clients. All very amateur, really. He recognized me from my description, as I was the mark, not Jessimyn."

Alistair's eyebrows shot up. "...And?"

"Well, that lead to a number of questions. Who in Denerim might want me dead, and for what reason? This man, he had been told that I had stolen something from you, and that's why I needed to be assassinated."

"Stolen something from me," Alistair repeated. "Like what?"

"Not what, but whom, I think. It's my belief that someone was upset by my closeness to Jessimyn and wanted me out of the way. Permanently."

Alistair was silent for a long time, looking at Zevran. What was he supposed to make of that? "That... seems like a large leap to make, don't you?"

Zevran shrugged. "Perhaps, but it made as much sense as anything else. While I may have many enemies in Antiva, I have none... well, few anyway... in Denerim who would wish me dead."

Alistair sat back down. "But... if this is true, if someone was trying to kill you because..." He shook his head. "Who, Zevran?"

The assassin smiled at him. "Well, I saw two strong possibilities for who it might be, who would have a vested interest in keeping me away from Jessimyn. You, of course, would be one of them."

Alistair managed to keep his face smooth. "Me? Well, I won't deny I haven't wished you from our lives before, but... I assume since you're telling me all of this, you've realized I had nothing to do with your attack."

Zevran laughed. "Such honesty! But no, I've seen nothing that shows you were involved in any way... although I wasn't really looking at you in the first place."

"Then who?"

Zevran frowned. "Fergus."

"Maker," Alistair breathed. "That's what you meant, something that could hurt Jessimyn. You really think her brother tried to have you killed? But why?"

With a shrug, Zevran said, "He has never tried to hide his dislike for me. I am an elf, and I... well, what more is there to it, in his mind? That his blooded sister would have anything to do with someone like me..."

"I'm sure Fergus dislikes lots of people. That doesn't mean he tries to have them killed. This is a serious accusation you make, Zevran. What proof do you have?"

Zevran sighed. "Nothing I can show you, unfortunately. I did... manage to get into his rooms and look around, though."

"You... broke into a teryn's apartments?" Alistair sputtered. "You could be... that is a serious crime."

A wide grin spread across Zevran's face. "Ah, but I was not caught. Would you like to hear what I found, or do you not wish to know more of my... crime?"

Alistair grunted. "Tell me."

Zevran nodded. "It was in his manservant's room that I found what I found. The man had quite a lot of equipment for disguising himself. Makeups and wigs, all different sorts of clothing not suitable for a servant of his station. He also had quite a bit more gold than a servant should have, all parceled out into a number of purses."

Alistair shook his head. "Odd, yes, but none of that proves that they've done anything wrong."

"And poisons," Zevran continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted. "More types than what even I am familiar with. Deathroot, wolfsbane, nightshade. They even had satyrion powder."

Alistair frowned. "Satyrion powder? I've never heard of that?"

Zevran gave him an amused look. "No? It's not a poison, not necessarily. It's a strong aphrodisiac. A pinch stirred into your wine, and you are soon ready for a long night of lovemaking."

"But why would he..." Alistair shook his head. "No matter. All of these things you have found, they don't prove anything."

"No, that they do not. But they are curious, nonetheless. Why would a respectable noble have a servant who is well-versed in disguise and poisons?"

Alistair leaned back in his chair, thinking. Fergus had always struck him as a trustworthy man. Certainly he was ambitious, but to resort to murder? "Why would he want you dead?" He asked again. "If everyone who disliked you tried to kill you, I'm sure you would have been dead long ago."

Zevran smiled. "Well, there are plenty who have tried, it is certain. But no, it is more than just his simple dislike of me that pushed him to this. As I said, he thinks I've stolen something... someone from you. Perhaps he enjoys the influence he has on you, with his sister as your mistress, that he is willing to do whatever it takes to keep Jessimyn from taking another lover."

Alistair ground his teeth together. There was so much about that sentence that he didn't like. "She's not... my _mistress_," he said, spitting out the word.

"Is she not? You are a married man, yes? And you have sex with her, though she is not your wife? You do not seem to be in the habit of taking other lovers, which would mean she is special to you in some way. I think that would make her your mistress, yes? Regardless of whatever _feelings_ the two of you think you share."

Alistair decided to let it go. He wasn't going to discuss such things with Zevran. "But... Fergus is a teyrn. He has plenty of influence simply by holding that title."

Zevran laughed. "I may be the son of a whore, but I understand politics better than you, it seems. Everyone does everything they can, to make sure they get their way. You are married to the daughter of the other teyrn in Ferelden. If you are sleeping with Jessimyn as well as your Lyrina, then that would put the two teyrns on more even footing, would it not?"

"I..." Alistair began.

"But come now. Surely you've heard our dear Jessimyn talk about her family? About family in general, and what it means to the Couslands. If her brother feels like I've sullied her honor, that right there might be enough to want to see me dead."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. "Have you told Jessimyn about all of this?"

Zevran smiled. "And how do you think she would react to all of this? No, I have said nothing to her, and I'd suggest you do the same. Even if we had further proof, I would hesitate. Besides, her brother has gone home to Highever, has he not? This whole assassination seemed a very rushed thing to me. It was not terribly well planned, maybe even done on the spur of the moment. I doubt I have any need to worry as long as he is not in Denerim."

Alistair nodded, staring off. "I... assume you'll still be careful, though," he said after a moment.

"Your concern is touching," Zevran said with a smile before turning serious. "But yes, I will be careful. I'd suggest you do the same. I'd be careful how far and how much you trust this man."

"Yes, well..." Alistair sighed. "Maybe you're right."

The two men said their goodbyes, and Zevran left, leaving Alistair to his thoughts. If Zevran's allegations were true, what did it mean? What would Jessimyn think if she found out? And how would she react, if she knew they were keeping the information from her?


	37. Zevran Chapter 37

On his way back from the palace, Zevran stopped by the armorers. He realized he'd never gone to pick up the armor that he'd been going to get when Jessimyn was injured. When he got the large bag of equipment back to the compound, he began going through it. Most of it was stuff that had simply needed to be repaired, but there were a few new items he'd collaborated with the armorer on. Specifically, there were two sets of gauntlets he'd had made, and he tried the first set on. Happy with the results, he picked up the second pair to take them to Jessimyn, who would be their new owner.

He went into her barracks, to her office, but she was not there, so he knocked on her sitting room door. After a moment, she opened it just a crack and stuck her head out. "Yes?"

Zevran raised his eyebrows. What was she trying to hide? "I have something for you," he said, holding up the gauntlets.

She looked confused. "Those aren't mine."

He nodded. "They are now. Come, I want to show you how they work."

Jessimyn stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her. "I'm aware of how to wear gauntlets, Zev."

Zevran smiled. "Of course, but these are no ordinary gauntlets." He beckoned her to go outside with him, and she followed. Once outside, he handed her the set he'd been holding so that he could demonstrate his own. "I've had the armorer working on these. Watch." He held up his arms, and then with the slightest movement of his thumb, blades sprung out from his wrists.

"How... did you do that?" She asked.

He turned his hands over so that Jessimyn could see the undersides of his arms. "There's a spring, and a catch." He caught a fingernail on a tiny protrusion and slid it back, once again concealing the blades. "See, right here? If you trigger this with your thumb, they'll pop out." He pressed the catch again.

Jessimyn furrowed her brow. "That seems... dangerous, Zev. What if you accidentally press it when your fingers are in the way."

He smiled. "That would be a mistake I'd only make once, I'm sure. But see how the catch is set? It would be nearly impossible to hit it accidentally. Try yours on."

She seemed reluctant, but she strapped the gauntlets onto her arms. "It's not a very long blade," she said.

Zevran laughed. "Well, it's not meant to be a primary weapon, obviously. It's for... tight situations, when you've lost your sword or dagger, or if you don't want someone to know you've got one. Try it."

Jessimyn turned her arms over and caught the catch with her thumb. "It's a little hard to... oh!" She startled when the blades popped out. "Hmm... interesting. I think I'm going to have to practice with these a little." She looked at him. "You had these made special?"

"For you and me, yes," he said. "What do you think?"

"I think I shouldn't be surprised that your assassin's mind came up with this. It seems a little unwieldy, though. You'd have to stab with your wrist rather than your hand. And there's no way to change the angle of it. Oh, and..."

Zevran cut her off. "Well, if you don't like them, give them back."

Jessimyn pulled her arms to her chest, smiling at him. "I didn't say I didn't like them. They'll just take some getting used to. Maybe we can get a few practice sessions in with them before I..." She cut off abruptly and looked away.

"Before you what, Jess?" He peered at her. "You've been acting very strangely the past couple of days. What's going on with you? What have you got hidden up your sleeve?"

With a smile, she held her arms up. "You mean besides these?"

Zevran grunted at her.

Jessimyn sighed and removed the guantlets. "Let's... go inside." She led him into her office, and they sat down. "I've decided to send Tivven on to Amaranthine."

"And the others?" Zevran asked.

"I've decided _not_ to send them. In fact, I was planning on telling everyone tomorrow. Tivven is going on, and the rest are going home."

Zevran nodded. "I can see why you might keep that from them, until you're ready to tell everyone, but why keep it from me?"

Jessimyn wouldn't quite meet his eye. "Well... I'm going with him. Kyran and I will escort Tivven to Amaranthine."

"Well, that's not too shocking. You haven't been to Amaranthine since you sent the other Wardens there, yes? It's probably about time you paid them a visit."

"Not a visit, Zev," she said. "I'm going there to stay."

Zevran just looked at her, and Jessimyn shifted uncomfortably. "For how long?" He asked.

"I... don't know. A while, though. Maybe for good. I... need to get out of Denerim. For everyone's sake."

Zevran moved close to her, touching her arm. "What brought this on?" He asked.

Jessimyn shook her head. "I don't really want to talk about it. I've been neglecting my duties for too long now, allowing myself to get sidetracked by... things. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

"I'm going with you," said Zevran.

"No, Zev. You should stay here, continue with the training..." she began, but Zevran shook his head.

"I am not one of your Grey Wardens," he said. "So you cannot order me to do anything, nor am I obligated to stay here or go anywhere else. I do what I do because I choose it. I chose to stay here and help with the training, but if you're leaving, then I choose to go with you."

"And if I forbid it?" She asked.

Zevran shrugged a shoulder. "You can forbid me from traveling with you, but you cannot stop me from going. If I have to follow a suitable distance behind you and camp by myself, so be it. But I'm going to Amaranthine."

A slow smiled crept onto her face. "You would really do something like that, wouldn't you?"

Zevran grinned. "Just try me."

With a sigh, Jessimyn nodded. "Very well, then. I can't guarantee what you'll find when we get there, though. There may be no place for you there, and there may be nothing I can do about it."

"We'll deal with that if it happens that way," he said, watching her. After a moment, Zevran said, in a light tone. "So... I suppose you haven't told Alistair about this, have you?"

"I... no. Not yet. I was going to wait until right before we're ready to leave, so that he... won't try to stop me."

"That's hardly fair," said Zevran.

"It's not really your place to decide, now is it?" She asked. "Look, I'm doing what is best for everyone here. It well may be that not everyone agrees with that assessment right now, but in time... it's what I need to do."

"I'm not arguing that with you, my dear Jessimyn," he said. "But... don't spring this on him." He grinned at her. "Give him a chance to offer a suitable farewell."

Jessimyn groaned. "I think we're done here," she said.

Zevran laughed. "As you wish."

He left her office and walked down the hall. When he saw that Jessimyn wasn't following him, Zevran peeked into her sitting room. As he expected, it showed all the signs of someone leaving, someone who wasn't planning on returning. All of the little things she'd had spread out had been packed away. She was quite serious about leaving, then. He wondered how serious she would be about staying away, once she got to Amaranthine.

Later that day, after Zevran had finished what he realized would likely be his last training session, Leliana showed up at the compound. She waited as he cleaned up, then pulled him away from where anyone might overhear.

"I heard you were summoned by the king this morning," she said.

"News travels fast, I see," said Zevran. "Yes, he did. We both knew it was going to happen."

"What did you tell him?" She asked.

Zevran shrugged. "The truth. There's no reason why he shouldn't know. In fact, it might be better this way. If Fergus proves an even worse threat in the future, well, then it might be good if at least Alistair is aware of what the man is capable of. Besides, he didn't buy the excuse you'd come up with, that I was visiting a woman in the palace."

Leliana scowled. "It was a good story. You must have told it wrong."

"Maybe I did," he said with a smile. "Either way, now he knows. There's something he _doesn't_ know, though."

Leliana's eyebrows rose up. "Oh? What is it? You have gossip I don't know about?

"Jessimyn is leaving." When Leliana gasped, Zevran nodded. "She's going to Amaranthine, apparently to stay. From the looks of it, she's serious, and she's planning on leaving in a few days."

"And Alistair knows nothing of it? Oh, but... he'll be heartbroken. Why is she leaving? She didn't find out about Fergus, did she?"

Zevran shook his head. "No, I'm sure she knows nothing of that."

Leliana scowled again. "Well, I'm going to tell him."

"I'm not sure she would appreciate that," Zevran said, an amused look on his face.

"I'm sure you're right," Leliana agreed, grinning mischievously. "But if they can't have a happy ending, at least they deserve a tragic confrontation."


	38. Jessimyn Chapter 38

Jessimyn stood at the railing surrounding the practice yards, watching the men. She was going to tell them that night that most of them would be going home, and she was surprised by the sadness she felt about it. While she knew she was making the right decision, she also knew how disappointed they were going to be. It was for the best, though. Jessimyn smiled a little. She wondered how many times she'd repeated those words to herself over the past few days.

"Uh... Jessimyn?" Kyran said.

Jessimyn turned to look at him. "What is it?"

He'd been standing next to her, watching the sparring, but now he was staring at something behind her. Jessimyn turned to look, and her heart sank. Alistair had just entered the compound and was striding towards her, his two guards practically running to keep up. By his face, it was clear he was not happy. Jessimyn rolled her shoulders back, waiting for whatever was coming.

"My lady," Alistair said through clenched teeth, once he reached her. "I would speak with you in private."

It took everything in her power not to sigh. "Of course, Your Majesty. Kyran, if you would excuse us?"

The mage just took a step back, his eyes wide. Jessimyn turned and walked towards her office, Alistair at her side. The guards waited at the front door, as usual, and Jessimyn walked into her office. She jumped when Alistair slammed the door behind them.

"Tell me it's not true," he demanded.

Jessimyn crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell you _what's_ not true?"

Two quick steps closed the distance between them, and Alistair grabbed her by the arms. "Tell me you're not leaving, not going away. Tell me you didn't lie to me when you said you'd stay. Tell me it's all some crazy misunderstanding." Jessimyn wouldn't meet his eyes. "Maker," he said. "So it's true, then. Why?" He gave her a little shake.

Jessimyn pushed his hands away and took a step back. "I'm... sending Tivven on to Amaranthine, to go through the Joining. I'm going with him."

Alistair moved with her, putting his arms around her waist. "So you're coming back then? Afterwards?"

She tried to push his hands away again, but he held onto her too tightly. "No... I'm going to stay there. I think it's best..."

"Best?!" Alistair shouted, taking a step back. "Best for whom? Where is this coming from, Jess? Just a few days ago you said you'd stay with me until the end, and now... What's changed? Why are you running away?"

"I'm not running away," Jessimyn said. "I just... I can't do this anymore, Alistair. I've been neglecting my duties for too long now. It's time for me to go to Amaranthine." She frowned as Alistair started laughing. "What's so funny?"

"It seems like every other year, we have this conversation." He gave a crooked smile. "But if you think I'm going to just let you walk away like you did four years ago, you're crazy. I should have fought harder, then. I should have forced you to stay then. I probably should have forced you to marry me. I won't make the same mistake twice."

"It wasn't a mistake," Jessimyn said softly. "Coming back was the mistake. I won't..." She swallowed. "I won't be your mistress anymore. I can't. I need to focus on the Grey Wardens, and you need to focus on your family."

"What family?" Alistair growled, stepping towards her so that she had to step back. "You're my family, Jess. More than anything else."

Jessimyn took another step back and bumped into the wall behind her. "You say that now, but Lyrina will get pregnant one of these days. And then what? What will you think of my being here then, when you have a new baby?" She took a deep breath. "I don't want to make this harder than it is. We have to... move on."

Placing his arms against the wall to either side of her head, Alistair leaned in closer. "I'm not letting you go."

"You don't have a choice," Jessimyn said. "I'm leaving in a few days."

He pulled a hand back and slammed it against the wall. "Dammit, Jess. I can order you to stay, you know. I can put guards on all the gates into the city to make sure you don't leave."

"No, you can't," she said softly. "And you know it. You may be king, but I'm a Grey Warden. You can't order me to do anything. How would it look, to pass it around that you won't let me leave Denerim? Besides, what guard would really try to prevent me from leaving, regardless of what you tell them."

Alistair stared at her for a long time, keeping his hands on the wall beside her so that she couldn't move. "I'm not letting you go," he said again. "I know why you _think_ you need to leave, but you don't. You _need _to stay here. With me." He leaned in close to her, his body brushing against hers. "You know it's what you want," he whispered.

Jessimyn closed her eyes, her voice sad. "It's not a matter of what I want, or what you want. It's about duty. And honor. We've been ignoring those things since... that night in Highever. We've been selfish, and it has to stop."

"No, it doesn't," he said, his lips pressed to her ear. "And so what if it's selfish? We've made our fair share of sacrifices. You're still fulfilling your duty as a Grey Warden here in Denerim, and I'm still fulfilling my duty as king. Nothing needs to change." He moved his hands in to rest on her shoulders. "Nothing is going to change." He began rubbing her arms. "Because you're not going anywhere."

"Alistair..." she began, but he cut her off as he pressed his lips to hers. Jessimyn tried to move her head to the side, but he reached up to hold the sides of her face, crushing his body against hers to pin her to the wall. _I won't respond,_ she told herself. She just stood there, letting him kiss her, but when his tongue managed its way between her lips, she opened her mouth, allowing him entrance. Her arms went around his waist, but when his mouth moved to her neck, she gave her head a little shake. "No, Alistair," she said, trying to push him away.

"No?" Alistair asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

"No," Jessimyn repeated, more forceful this time. "This isn't a game, or a joke, or some sort of test. I'm leaving in a few days, and I don't think I'll be coming back." His hands began moving up and down her body, cupping her breasts, sliding over her hips, and dipping between her legs. "Please don't make this harder than it already is," she whimpered, gasping sharply when he pinched a nipple. "You're not... Maker! You're not going to change my mind."

"You're not going to change mine, either," he whispered into her ear, his hands suddenly up under her blouse. "You're the only thing in my life I ever truly wanted, the only thing that's every truly made me happy. I'm not letting you leave me again."

Jessimyn tried to stay focused, but his hands were very distracting. All the arguments she'd planned on saying went out of her head when he gave the laces on her trousers a sharp tug, and they fell to the floor. "Alistair..." she tried, but then he slid a finger inside her as he reached with his other hand to undo his own laces. "Maker," she gasped as he slid his hands under her bottom to lift her up. She grabbed onto his shoulders for balance, instinctively wrapping her legs around him. Alistair shifted his hips, and then he was inside her.

His thrusts were angry, each one slamming her into the wall behind her. Jessimyn had to tilt her head forward to keep from banging it against the wall. The look in Alistair's eyes was so intense that Jessimyn had to look away, only to have him growl at her. "Look at me," he demanded. When she met his eyes, he leaned in and bit her bottom lip. "Maker, Jess," he gasped, thrusting into her one last time, his body shuddering. When his climax subsided, he lowered her back to the ground, but then his fingers were inside her again.

His fingers thrust into her with the same intensity, and his thumb rubbed against her hard little nub. She gripped his shoulders, feeling the tension build in her lower body. Jessimyn could feel the heat rising in her face, and she knew he was watching her. The tension finally reached a breaking point, and she felt it crash over her in waves. She clung to him as she tried to catch her breath. Alistair tilted his head down to kiss her neck. "I don't want you to leave, Jess," he whispered. "And I know you don't want to leave, either."

Jessimyn reached down to tug her trousers back up. She used the excuse of retying her laces to keep from having to look Alistair in the eye. "But I have to. For both our sakes."

Alistair pulled his own breeches back up. "I've told you before," he said. "Stop acting so noble, like your own feelings don't matter, like everything you do has to be for the greater good. Stop acting like _my _feelings don't matter. There is no one in all of Ferelden who would begrudge us what happiness we can find, nor are there any who would say you've neglected your duty. Even Lyrina." That got Jessimyn's attention, and she looked up sharply. "Oh, I don't think she knows about us... not for certain, anyway. But I'm pretty sure she suspects... something. But so what? I've never mistreated her, I've always given her everything she's ever wanted. But I don't love her, Jess. I love you. If you leave me..." He choked a little on his words. "...then what was it all for? I am king because of duty, and I have a queen because of that same duty. But my heart is my own to give, as is yours. I gave mine to you a long time ago."

Jessimyn closed her eyes, bidding the tears not to come. She wouldn't let him see her cry. She wouldn't. She felt his arms around her again, and Jessimyn leaned into the embrace. "Alistair..." she began.

"No, Jess," he said gently. "Just... wait. Think on the things I've said. I can't stay, but I'll be back tomorrow, and we can talk more then. But know that I'm not going to let you leave, not without a fight." He kissed her forehead and her cheeks, then pressed his lips to hers. When he pulled back, he said, "I love you, Jess."

"I love you, too," she said, though all she felt was sadness.

Once Alistair left, she went into her bedroom to change. Her trousers were a mess, and she slipped into a different pair. As she walked back out into the hallway, she saw Zevran slipping in through the front door. She looked at him for a moment, then went into her office.

"You told him," she said, knowing that he had followed her in.

"No..." said Zevran. "But I told the person who told him. Have you changed your mind about leaving, then? I was told he was very angry when he arrived, but he didn't leave looking so. And it seems you have changed your clothes, and your hair..."

"Enough observations," Jessimyn said harshly, cutting him off.

Zevran smiled at her. "So should I stop packing my things, then?"

Jessimyn looked at him for a long time before giving a little shake of her head. "No. We're still leaving. It just might be harder to get out of Denerim than I thought. Now, if you don't mind... I'd like to be alone."

She turned her back to the door and heard it shut as Zevran left. She sank to the ground, pressing her hands to her face as the tears finally came.


	39. Jessimyn Chapter 39

Alistair returned the next day, as he had promised he would. Jessimyn had prepared herself for the worst, but he was much more subdued than he had been the previous day.

"I want to apologize," he said the minute he was inside her office. He looked stricken, and he pulled a chair over to sit next to her. "I was angry when I came here yesterday, and I feel like I forced you to... I almost feel like I... I never meant..." His lips moved wordlessly, as if he couldn't make himself finish the sentence.

Jessimyn reached out and took his hand. "Don't," she said softly. "There's no need to apologize."

"Isn't there?" Alistair's tone was harsh, full of self-loathing. "I came here, hoping to convince you to stay, and then I practically..." He closed his eyes, as if forcing himself to say the words. "...raped you. I..."

"No," said Jessimyn, cutting him off. "You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do. Besides, don't you think I could stop you, if that was what I had wanted?"

"I don't know," he said miserably. "Maker, Jess. I just... don't want you to go, and now I don't feel like I have the right to ask you to stay anymore. Maybe I never had the right to ask it of you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than just to have you at my side, for always, but maybe that's not meant to be for us. I love you, and I know I'll always love you, but I can't use that to bind you to me, much as I'd like to." He looked at her and tried to smile, but it looked so sad that Jessimyn had a hard time meeting his eyes. "And because I love you, I need to let you do what you think is right. Perhaps if I was able to overcome my own selfishness, I'd see that it _is _right, but I'm not there just yet." At Jessimyn's surprised look, he touched her cheek. "I don't think I slept at all last night, so I had lots of time to think about all of this."

"I do think it's... best, for both of us," she said hollowly.

"I know. I..." Alistair stood up, keeping her hand in his. "Come with me," he said. He led her out of the office and into her sitting room, where he sat down on her couch and pulled her into his lap. "It's... more comfortable in here," he said, a little apologetic.

He wrapped his arms around her, and Jessimyn tilted her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder. They held each other for a long time as he stroked her hair. "When... are you planning on going?" He asked after a while.

"In three days."

"Just you and Tivven? Or..."

"I'm taking Kyran and Zevran with me as well," said Jessimyn, and she felt his arms tighten around her at the mention of Zevran's name.

"Of course," said Alistair softly. "Well, at least I'll know you'll have two trustworthy, loyal people watching your back for me." The silence stretched again before he said, "Can I ask something of you?" Jessimyn tilted her head up to look at him, but he quickly turned away from her, lifting a hand to wipe at his face. "Will you... write? I mean, I do still want to be kept up to date with everything that goes on with the Grey Wardens, but also... I just want to hear from you. I want to know that you're well, that you're..." His arms tightened around her again.

"I can do that," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. She was having a hard time keeping a reign on her emotions. His anger the previous day had been easier to deal with.

After a long time, he finally stood up. "I need to get back," he said reluctantly. "I hate feeling like I always have to rush away, but... I guess that won't be a problem anymore." He took Jessimyn's hands in his, and he looked nervous as he said, "I'm going to kiss you now, if that's all right?"

Jessimyn nodded, and he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle and sweet, and when she felt a dampness on her cheeks, Jessimyn wasn't sure if it came from her or from him. When they finally pulled apart, Alistair lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. "Goodbye, my love," he said, and then he was gone. As she watched him walk out the door, she couldn't help but feel like he was taking a part of her with him.

On the day her little party was set to leave, Alistair didn't show up at the compound. It was not a momentous event; there was no fanfare to signal their departure from the city, but Jessimyn felt a little disappointed that he didn't show. Well, disappointed and relieved, if a person can be both at the same time. Perhaps it was for the best (how she had grown to hate those words). After all, she'd barely been able to hold her emotions in check for the past few days, and she certainly didn't want either of them to embarrass themselves in front of the others.

The trip from Denerim to Amaranthine would not be a long one, and their travel was easy. As they were leaving, she'd looked back only once, just as they'd gotten beyond the city walls, and the pain that washed over her had stunned her, but she did her best to keep it from showing. Tivven was a bundle of nerves, and Kyran spent most of their time in camp trying to soothe him. For the first few days, Zevran had left Jessimyn alone. She could tell by the looks he gave her, when he didn't think she was looking, that he was worried about her, but she knew he could also tell she wasn't in the mood to talk, and she was grateful he gave her space. The first night, Jessimyn had been surprised by how lonely she felt. She would look around, and it was _almost_ right. She felt a kinship with Kyran like she'd had with Wynne and Leliana, and Tivven reminded her of Sten for some strange reason, although Tivven was not quite so gruff. She would hear Zevran laugh at something and want to look over her shoulder for Morrigan and Oghren to join in. But it was Alistair's absence she felt the most.

How many nights had they sat, huddled next to each other by the fire? He and the others had looked to her for guidance and leadership, it was true, but she'd always drawn her strength from his confidence in her. She found herself recalling their early courtship, if it could even be called that. They had grieved their losses together, and it brought them close. He understood her fear of failing her family, he understood her desire to be a person her parents would have been proud of. He had reassured her that they would find her brother, just as she had reassured him they would find his sister, although the latter hadn't turned out quite as they had expected.

How many nights, when the weather was nice, had they pulled their bedrolls out of their tents to sleep under the stars? The others had teased them about that, about such gross public displays of affection, but they didn't care. There had been something special there, when they could lie side by side, fingers entwined, looking at the stars. There had been an almost unspoken idea that looking at the stars, things that were so far away and so unchangeable, brought everything into focus and made what they had to face seem not quite so frightening. It was under the stars that Alistair first admitted what his childhood had been like, growing up in Eamon's stables. It was under the stars when Jessimyn had first told him how she'd never felt like she could fit in the shadows her parents cast, and how those shadows only seemed to grow longer with their deaths. And it was under the stars when they'd first confessed their love for each other.

In the quiet of the night, his absence was magnified. She found herself constantly glancing over her shoulder to say something to him, but he was not there. She awoke reaching for him, but there was only empty bedroll where he should have been. Before, when she'd been traveling with Zevran and Leliana, Kyran, Jakob, and Theon to Weisshaupt, she'd been so focused on her goal that she hadn't allowed herself time to truly feel the loss she now felt. So in the darkness of her tent, she really let herself cry for him. She hated crying. It was weak. _Tears are for mourning, not for pain_, her brother had always told her, but wasn't this a type of mourning? Jessimyn knew she had to allow herself those tears, or she would never be able to heal.

It was the evening of the third day of travel that Jessimyn finally tried to pull herself together. She'd always gone straight to her tent, as she typically took last watch and used that as an excuse for wanting to get to sleep right away. That night, though, she went to sit next to Zevran after they'd eaten. And Zevran, being the wonderful friend that he was, drew her into his normal easy conversation, never asking her if she was all right, never asking her if she wanted to talk about anything. He knew she didn't, and that was enough.

The rest of the trip had gone smoothly. She had joined in with Kyran, trying to ease Tivven's fears. He began opening up a little more, as they seemed to have convinced him he was no longer just a possible, but an actual Grey Warden recruit. However, Jessimyn wasn't prepared for the shock she received when they arrived in Amaranthine. It was not an unfamiliar place, after all. She'd been there many times before, but it had always been with her family, always when they had gone to visit Arl Howe. Rendon Howe, the traitorous bastard who was responsible for the deaths of her parents. And now she was going to live in his old home? She hadn't really thought about what it would mean to be back there until she stood staring up at the gates of the estate.

"What is it?" Kyran asked, looking over his shoulder when he realized she had stopped moving.

Jessimyn stood still, staring past the three men. She shook her head. "You all go on. I'm going to... look around a little before going inside."

"Do you want any company?" Zevran asked her, but she again shook her head. "Let me take your bags for you, then," he offered.

Jessimyn pressed her hands to her stomach, trying to keep from being sick as the three of them walked away. _Alistair would understand,_ she could help but think. _He'd know what to say_. But then, at the look Zevran threw her over his shoulder, perhaps he understood as well. It didn't matter, though. She knew she couldn't go inside, not yet. Why hadn't she thought of this before? She waited until her companions were out of sight before turning around. The Howes had owned quite a bit of land surrounding the estate, and Jessimyn remembered a copse of trees nearby where they had played as children. She headed for it.

The trees were as she remembered them. That thought almost made her smile. Had she expected them to be different? She walked through them for a while before she found the tree she'd been looking for. It was one of the larger ones in the area, and it had a number of low branches. She and Thomas used to climb it when they were young. It had seemed much larger then. She reached up and touched the lowest limb. It seemed strange, to have good memories of this place, but she did. She had liked Thomas, even if he was a strange, awkward boy. Jessimyn recalled him trying to kiss her once, when she'd been about eleven. She'd laughed at him and ran away.

Jessimyn drew her weapons and tossed them to the ground, and then she was pulling herself up into the tree. She couldn't really say why she did it, but it seemed... right. Maybe she just needed to try to flush out the bad memories with the good. And maybe she was just stalling going into the estate. Either way, she found herself halfway up the tree in no time at all. She sat down on a large limb, letting her legs dangle beneath her.

Pressing her eyes shut, Jessimyn tried to push away the thoughts that swirled through her head. She didn't want to think about Rendon Howe or Thomas any more than she wanted to think about Alistair. She just wanted to think about the Grey Wardens, about Tivven's upcoming Joining, and about moving on with her life.

"Ho there," came a voice from below. "What are you doing up there?"

Jessimyn looked down to see a man looking up at her. He was no one she knew, but he was wearing armor. She couldn't tell how tall he was from her vantage point, but he looked to be about her age, maybe a little older. He had light brown hair and brown eyes, with broad shoulders.

"I said," he repeated. "What are you doing up there?"

Jessimyn kicked her feet. "Enjoying the view," she said.

"This is Grey Warden property you're trespassing on," said the man.

"Oh?" Jessimyn asked. "You a Grey Warden, then?"

"Yes, I am," he said, with the pride that only belongs to one who has only just recently passed his Joining. "The name's Jandin. I'll have yours, as well as your reason for being here."

Jessimyn didn't answer as she climbed out of the tree. Jandin looked a little wary but not too concerned. However, that changed when Jessimyn reached for her weapons which were still lying on the ground. "Whoa, whoa," he said. "You may be a woman, but there's still rules. This is Grey Warden land. I'll have to ask you to hand over the weapons and come with me."

Jessimyn twirled the dagger and sword in her hands and sheathed them at her back. "Well, lucky for me I'm a Grey Warden as well, so I'll just go ahead and keep these."

The man scoffed. "Pfft. There's only one woman Warden in Ferelden, and she..." He peered at her, and Jessimyn smiled at him.

"You asked for my name," she said. "I am Jessimyn Cousland."

Jandin's eyes widened. "Oh, Maker. I... forgive me, my lady. We'd had word you were on your way here, but I hadn't thought to find you..." He suddenly looked embarrassed.

"Up in a tree?" Jessimyn finished for him.

"Well... no, can't say that I would have expected that." He grinned at her. "So, have you already been to the estate, then? Or were you planning on building a nest up there?"

Jessimyn found herself laughing at that. "No, that I was not. I used to visit this place as a child. I used to climb this very tree, and I guess it was calling to me." She glanced away from him. Why was she telling him this? She didn't know this man, and now he probably thought she was half out of her head.

Jandin just smiled at her. "Well, if you're done answering the call of nature..." His smile widened at his own wit. "I'll escort you to the estate, if you'd like."

"Very well," said Jessimyn. It was not that she needed the company, or someone to show her the way. But maybe having someone at her side who didn't know her, except by reputation, would help somehow.

When she finally made her way inside, Zevran was waiting for her. Jandin eyed him warily, but when Zevran returned the look, the Grey Warden found somewhere else he suddenly needed to be.

"Who was that?" Zevran asked.

"His name is Jandin," Jessimyn said, offering no further explanation.

Zevran just looked at her a moment before nodding. "They've given you all rooms, although they weren't certain what to do with me. Seems there's still quite a few open rooms in the estate, so the Wardens have all been staying here rather than in any sort of barracks." He took a step closer to her, lowering his voice just a little. "Seems they keep the nicer rooms empty for any visiting nobility that might show up. They wanted to put you in the old family quarters, but I suggested you'd be more comfortable with the other Wardens, so instead they've given you one of the nicer rooms in what was one of the guest wings."

"Thank you," she said, and Jessimyn knew Zevran could tell how grateful she was. The idea of living in a room where one of the Howes had once stayed chilled her. Just being there was hard enough, but she hoped to see as little as possible that might remind her of its former inhabitants.

Zevran showed her up to where she would be living, and Jessimyn was pleased to see it was an apartment that her family had often used during their visits. It was indeed one of the nicer sets of rooms in the estate, with a large sitting room and a fireplace as well as an enormous bedroom. Zevran had already placed her bags inside.

"Apparently most people come and go as they please, but I guess they've prepared a large meal for your arrival." He grinned at her. "I know how much you love being fawned over, yes? The perks of being a national hero, I suppose." When Jessimyn scowled, he touched her shoulder. "And then, after dinner, you and I will retire up here." At Jessimyn's raised eyebrows, Zevran laughed. "Oh, I certainly do not presume to stay the night, if that's what you're thinking. Rather, I have managed to steal two bottles of wine from the kitchens. I had promised myself that, as soon as we were able, I was going to get you good and drunk. It seems you could use a good drunk."

Jessimyn hugged him. "Thank you," she said again. "For... for everything."

Zevran seemed a little startled, but he returned her embrace. "Of course, my dear Jessimyn. After all, what are friends for?"


	40. Zevran Chapter 40

It was almost a little strange, that of their little band, it was Tivven who was accepted by the Amaranthine Wardens the fastest. After all, he was a strong, male warrior, which is what the Grey Wardens were used to. Even if Jessimyn hadn't been a hero, and therefore held in awe a little by those who didn't know her, and even by some who did, she was also a woman, and that set her apart. Kyran, of course, was a mage, and there would always be prejudices that ran bone-deep against his kind. As for Zevran, well, no one really knew what to make of him.

The dinner on the night they had arrived had seemed awkward, and not just for the four of them, but for everyone. It seemed they were not used to formal gatherings. Luckily, the dining hall was not set up as it might have been for a royal or noble feast, with people arranged at the tables according to rank. After all, the Grey Wardens were supposed to be equals, more or less. Jessimyn sat with some of the Orlesian Grey Wardens that she seemed acquainted with, and Tivven had immediately been pulled over to sit with a group of the newer Grey Wardens. Zevran was more than happy to sit with Kyran, who seemed more nervous than Zevran had ever seen him before.

After dinner, Zevran made good on his promise and showed up at Jessimyn's door, wine in hand. They'd only finished one bottle, although Jessimyn had three glasses to his one. Zevran hadn't stayed long, as she still didn't seem to want to talk much, at least not about anything important, but that was fine with him. While he wanted her to know he was there for her, in any way she wanted him, he wasn't about to push her. Nor did he really care to hear about her feelings concerning Alistair and their separation. He'd heard her crying in her tent those first couple of nights, though it was obvious she was trying very hard not to be heard. Any desire he had to comfort her was held at bay by his knowledge that this was something she needed to work through on her own.

Instead, Zevran made his way down to what had once been the servants' quarters, where he had set up a room for himself. It was in the lower level of the estate, and it was apparently the area held normally for the recruits until they went through their Joining, which was when they were allowed to select nicer rooms if they wished. Most of those who lived through the ordeal had moved, but there were still a few rooms occupied by Grey Wardens. Tivven's room was at the opposite end of the hall from where Zevran was staying, but Kyran, too, had selected a room there.

As Zevran was walking down the narrow staircase, he heard voices coming from around the corner. From the stairs, the hallway led down to the left, with his room at the very end, but he paused near the bottom step. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that no one else was behind him, and the men who were speaking must have been just a little ways down the hallway, close enough to be heard easily, and he caught the end of a question.

"…you know her?" The voice had an accent, one Zevran placed as having come from the Free Marches.

"I… don't know. I mean, I was there in the compound in Denerim with her for a few months. She trained with us some, but she really ran the place, so she was busy a lot. She had important friends, too. The king was always coming to visit. And her brother's a teyrn, you know." That was Tivven speaking.

"Oh, _everyone _knows that," said another man.

It seemed there was a small group, come to pump Tivven for information. Zevran decided to listen in a little longer, turning his body in such a way that he would see if anyone started coming down the steps.

"What about the other two?" Another voice asked.

"Kyran and Zevran?" Tivven asked. "Kyran's a mage… though I guess you could tell by the robes, right? Zevran, uh… I guess he's an old friend of Jessimyn's as well. Fought with her when she killed that Archdemon. He's not a Grey Warden, but he probably could be one, if he wanted. He's been training the poss… uh, he helped train at the compound in Denerim."

"You were being trained by someone who's not a Warden?" That was the first accented voice again, and Zevran could almost picture the sneer he would have had on his face. "Not a Warden," he continued. "Not even a human."

Zevran heard the shuffling of feet and wondered if the man's comments had made the others uncomfortable. While it was true that most humans though of elves as beneath them, not so many would confess to such out loud.

Finally, Tivven spoke. "Yeah… I underestimated him, too, when I first met him. That's how I got this scar." Zevran found himself smiling at that, imagining Tivven showing the other men his arm. During one of their first sparring sessions together, Zevran had left a wide gash on Tivven's forearm. Kyran had offered to heal it, but Tivven had said he would keep it, as a reminder, though he'd never before said what it was supposed to remind him of. "I probably wouldn't suggest underestimating any of them," Tivven continued. "I've never really seen Kyran fight, but… I've heard stories about some of the nasty things mages can do. As for Jessimyn… she talks tough, but she can back it up. I'd take anything that came out of her mouth very seriously."

"I'd rather put things _into_ her mouth than take things out of it, if you know what I mean." That was the first voice again, and his words were met with laughter.

"Oh, lighten up, Tivven," said the second man. "You look like Berton just insulted your mother. You have to admit, she doesn't look like a fighter. Much too pretty, although she did look like she had some impressive scars."

"Just imagine all the ones we _can't _see," said the man who had to be Berton.

Zevran decided he didn't like this Berton much. He'd see to putting him in his place as soon as he was able. He also decided he'd eavesdropped long enough. He took the last two steps down the stairs and rounded the corner. The men all stopped to stare at him, and Tivven had the good graces to blush a little. Besides Tivven, there were three other men. One of them was that Jandin fellow he'd met earlier in the evening, so this Berton had to be one of the other two.

"Tivven," Zevran said with a nod.

"Uh… hello, Zevran. You… are you staying down here, too?" Tivven wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I am," said Zevran evenly. "At the end of the hall." He let his eyes travel over the other men. "Who are your friends?"

"Oh, they're… uh… this is Jandin," he said, pointing to the one out of the group that Zevran already knew. "And this is Berton, and that's… uh…"

"I'm Charles," said the short man with thinning blond hair. His nose looked a little too small for his face, his eyes a little too close together. Berton was much more impressive-looking.

Berton was tall, as was Jandin. They were both easily over six feet, but where Jandin had the normal build of a warrior, Berton was built more like an ox. His chest was easily twice as wide as Zevran's, and his arms and legs were like tree trunks. He had dark hair, almost black, dark eyes, dark skin, and his beak of a nose looked like it had been broken a few times. It was always enjoyable to knock men like him down a few pegs.

Zevran gave them all a winning smile. "A pleasure to meet you all, I'm sure. Perhaps I'll see you all in the practice yards tomorrow," he said and turned to walk down the hallway. He was pretty sure he heard someone snort behind him, probably Berton, but it hardly mattered. As he made his way down the hall, he paused at one of the doors on the left. He hesitated a moment, then knocked. He waited a moment before he heard the movement of feet inside. A quick look down the hallway from the direction he'd come showed that the little group that had been standing there had dispersed.

"Who… oh, uh… hello, Zevran." Kyran's robe looked like it had been hastily put on. Had the man already been in bed? It was barely dark out.

"I'm sorry to disturb you. May I come in?" Zevran asked.

"Oh, uh…" Kyran glanced back over his shoulder, then looked again at Zevran and nodded. "Of course. You'll have to excuse the mess, though."

Zevran walked into the room, which was much tidier than any room the elf had ever stayed in. He had a bag on one of the two chairs in the room, but its contents had already been moved to the chest at the foot of the small bed. There was a small table with a washbasin on top and a bookshelf against the wall opposite the bed, which did look like it had been used, but the room was otherwise bare. Kyran quickly pulled the bag off of the chair and shoved it under his bed. "Have a seat," he said, but his voice sounded nervous.

"Why did you choose a room down here?" Zevran asked as he sat down. "You are no recruit. You could have had a nicer room, if you wished."

Kyran sat in the other chair and smiled a little. "Oh, this room is plenty nice for me. You have to realize, I grew up in the Circle Tower, and I'd been an apprentice there until about a week before we left. The arrangements there were much like what we had at the compound. To have a room all to myself seems like the greatest luxury I could ask for. Besides, I have few belongings, nothing that would require a lot of extra space. Plus, I'm sure it's… quieter down here."

"You know, if you hold yourself apart, see yourself as different, the other men will treat you that way."

"What… what do you mean?" Kyran's face was turning a faint shade of pink. Interesting.

"Just because you are a mage, it doesn't mean you are any less of a Grey Warden than the others." Zevran watched him closely, to gauge his reaction.

"Oh, that." Kyran sounded almost relieved. Very interesting indeed. "Well… but I _am _different. You and Jessimyn might be used to keeping company with mages, but most other people are not."

"But how can people get used to being around mages if you won't let them… well, be around you?" Zevran smiled at him, but Kyran just looked away. "But I just wanted to see how you had settled in. You disappeared right after dinner."

"I don't like crowds much," Kyran muttered.

Zevran could tell he was making the man uncomfortable, so he stood. "Well, I will leave you to your rest, then."

The next day, Zevran wandered about the estate. He could tell people were eying him as he did so, but no one said anything or tried to stop him. Perhaps it was habit, but Zevran didn't want to be staying anywhere that he didn't know every way into and out of. When he finally made it outside, he found a large crowd at the practice yards. Tivven was sparring with Charles, who was apparently the other recruit in Amaranthine. Jessimyn and Kyran were standing off to one side, watching, and Zevran went over to them.

"How's he doing?" Zevran asked, nodding at Tivven.

"He's better than the other one," said Jessimyn.

"Charles," said Zevran, and when she raised her eyebrows at him, he smiled. "I had the pleasure of meeting him last night, along with a rather charming man called Berton who apparently has things he would like to put in your mouth. He also seemed interested in seeing all of the scars you have that your armor covers up?" Jessimyn's eyebrows managed to climb even higher, and Zevran laughed. "He didn't tell _me_ this, but I overheard him saying it to that man you met yesterday. Jandin, yes?"

Jessimyn quirked her lips and turned her attention back to the sparring match, which seemed to have ended, with Charles offering a bow to Tivven. A few other pairs rotated through the square, sparring with each other. Then, Jandin and Berton entered the yard. "That's him," Zevran said, nodding at the burly man.

Zevran watched as Jessimyn walked into the yard as well. Jandin took a step back, but Berton just gave her an amused look.

"Oh, you want to fight now?" Berton asked. "Which of us do you think you'll have a better chance against?" The crowd around them suddenly grew very quiet.

"I was thinking I'd take you both on, actually," she said as she went to select a practice sword and practice dagger, twirling them in her hands to test their weight.

Berton laughed. "Now now, no need to try to impress us. Besides, we'd hate to embarrass you in front of everyone."

"Show some respect," Jandin hissed at him, though it was loud enough that Zevran could hear it from where he stood.

"Respect must be earned," Berton said loudly. "They say you're a hero here in Ferelden, that you killed an Archdemon, but... seems to me that means you should be dead." If the crowd was quiet before, it was absolutely silent now.

Zevran watched Jessimyn's face. It was obvious she was seething, but her voice remained calm. "If you're afraid..." she said, leaving her statement open-ended.

Berton snorted and gave Jandin a shove to push him away. "I'd just hate to damage that pretty face of yours," he said. "But if you wish it..."

Jandin quickly exited the yard, leaving Jessimyn and Berton in the middle, glaring at each other. Jessimyn twirled the dagger in her left hand so that the pommel faced out and the flat of the blade lay against her inner arm. Berton carried a shield and a practice longsword that Zevran imagined most men would have had to use two hands to wield.

"Whenever you're ready, princess," said the man, and the spar began.

Jessimyn almost looked like a child next to Berton's size, but she was fast and took the offensive. She feinted to the right, then swung her sword in a backhanded arc towards Berton's leg, but he moved his shield down to block it. He brought his own sword crashing down at her head, but Jessimyn lifted her left hand up, the flat of her blade taking the brunt of his blow. She flipped the dagger around so that the blade was out and ducked down, slashing at his legs as she rolled past him, but Zevran could tell it wasn't a serious strike.

He narrowed his eyes as he watched her continue making similar moves, taking low swings and jabs at him as she danced out of his way. It was obvious Berton was growing angry, as he swung sword and shield at her, then had to turn, take a few lumbering steps towards where she'd moved to again and again. A slow smile crept onto Zevran's face as he realized her strategy. Berton seemed to grow madder and madder. His face was red, and his swings became more and more wild. Jessimyn's face was flushed as well, but Zevran knew it as a flush of excitement, not anger. She was purposely trying to wear him down. Men like Berton were generally over-confident that their size and strength would win the fight, and it was likely they did... most of the time.

Sweat poured down Berton's face, and he took another wild swing at Jessimyn. Jessimyn twisted to his side and threw a strong jab right into the center of his shield as she she stuck out a foot to trip him up. Berton stumbled, and Jessimyn launched herself onto him, knocking him backwards. He tried to swing his sword at her again, but she easily deflected it with her dagger as she landed on his chest, pinning his shield against him as he lay flat on his back. Zevran knew she could have let him yield then, but he was happy that she didn't. Instead, Jessimyn brought her sword down onto his head with a loud clang, ending the match.

"You're the one who's dead," she said flatly and started to get up, but Berton dropped his sword and reached up to grab her thigh under her armored skirt.

"Don't go," he said, clearly out of breath. "It was just starting to get good."

Jessimyn smashed her fist into the side of his face, and Berton released her. He lifted his hands up above his head. "Alright, kitten," he said with a laugh. "You win." He rubbed his jaw. "Put your claws away."

Jessimyn jumped off of him, and Berton grunted, tossing his shield aside as he tried to roll to his side so he could stand back up. She smirked at him. "Need a little help?" She asked as she took a step back. "Perhaps there are some oxen around, and some rope? We could use them to pull you upright again."

Berton laughed again but managed to stand up. He grabbed onto Jessimyn's arm as she tried to walk away, pulling her close so that he could whisper something to her. Zevran couldn't hear what it was, but by the way Jessimyn snorted as she pulled her arm away from the man, Zevran could tell it was probably something he wouldn't have liked to hear. She walked back over to him, and conversation suddenly started up again. However, no one seemed to want to follow that performance, and no one went back into the yard.

"What did he say to you?" Zevran hissed softly, but Jessimyn just had time to give her head a little shake before she was surrounded. Well, he would find out later. For now, let her receive her praise. At least the men could now see for themselves that she was more than just a pretty face. However, the look that Berton was giving her, and Jandin too for that matter, did not please him. Well. At least he knew things in Amaranthine were going to be exciting.


	41. Jessimyn Chapter 41

It was very quiet out, and Jessimyn stood on the balcony that encircled the second level of the Grey Warden estate in Amaranthine. It was her night to keep watch, and it was as boring as she'd expected it to be. They had enough people there that everyone had to take a turn at watch only once a fortnight, but everyone dreaded it. It was mainly because nothing ever happened. But even though it was dull, Jessimyn didn't mind so much. The nights were still warm, and it gave her time to be alone. She would make slow circles around the balcony, and she was currently on the eastern side of the estate, so that she could look out over the ocean. It almost reminded her of Highever, listening to the waves crash against the shore.

The past month since they had arrived had gone by in a rush. She had probably sparred with every man in Amaranthine, which she had expected she might have to. Hero or no, she knew she would always be required to prove herself, if she wanted the men around her to take her seriously. Sometimes she had large groups watching, and sometimes there were only a few people at the yards, but it seemed like there was always one person there, always one particular person watching, and it grated on her. Since she had beaten him, Berton seemed to be an ever-present shadow. He irritated her to no end, and it seemed like he actually expected her to take him up on the offer he'd whispered to her after she'd bested him.

"_Why don't you come back to my room later tonight, kitten, and we can finish our little wrestling match?"_ he'd whispered to her, and the thought of it made her shudder in disgust. He still insisted on calling her that, and she wanted to smash her fist into his teeth every time he did.

He was one of the older Grey Wardens, not a newly Joined, as most who were in Amaranthine were. He and a few others had traveled down from the Free Marches when the bulk of the group had moved from Denerim to Amaranthine, but the others who had come with him had gone back. No one really knew why he had stayed, but he had put himself forward as some sort of leader. Apparently most of the others had found it very impressive that Jessimyn had been able to beat him. It seemed there were few there who could. Jessimyn could tell he felt threatened by her, but he seemed to try to cover it up by being crude.

Jessimyn gave her head a little shake as she leaned forward on the railing around the balcony. She didn't want to think about that foul man. There were better things to think on, such as Tivven's successful Joining. Both he and Charles had survived, which had been cause for great celebration. It was the first fully successful Joining that not only Jessimyn but most of the Wardens there had ever seen. She also knew it was something worth writing Alistair about, but she had been hesitating.

While Jessimyn knew how to read and write, she had done little of either in her life. She knew her handwriting left much to be desired, and she wasn't sure she'd ever actually written a letter in her whole life. There had never been a need. But what was she supposed to write to him? It seemed very strange to her, trying to have a one-sided conversation with someone. She also wondered how private the letter would be. Everyone knew there were ways to open letters without breaking the seal, so that it might be impossible to tell if someone else had read it. She knew she could not put private or sensitive information into the letter, but then what else did that leave to say?

There were crumpled pieces of paper all over her room, from where she had started and abandoned probably at least ten letters already. She wondered if she should wait to see if he would write her first, but that seemed almost cowardly. Jessimyn scowled to herself. The whole idea of letter-writing just seemed so absurd to her. Not for the first time, she wondered why she had ever promised Alistair she would write. Suddenly, Jessimyn heard a noise behind her, and she turned around.

"Oh, don't move," said Berton, walking up to her from around the corner. "In fact, you should lean over that railing a little more. Then all I'd have to do is flip up that little skirt of yours..." He stopped as Jessimyn's dagger flashed out, point digging into his throat. "Now, now, kitten. That's not very friendly."

"Stop calling me that," Jessimyn said through gritted teeth, giving her dagger a little push so that a drop of blood appeared beneath its point.

That didn't keep Berton from grinning at her, however. "What? 'Kitten'? But it suites you, don't you think? After all, you're tiny and adorable, feisty, probably just as likely to scratch out my eyes as lick my... hand. Plus I just have this overwhelming desire to... pet you."

Jessimyn pulled her dagger back, then smacked him on the side of the neck with the flat of the blade, leaving a large, angry welt. "You disgust me," she said. "Get out of my sight."

Berton laughed and rubbed his neck. "Such a temper you have. Feisty, like I said. I find it very sexy."

"And this little act you're putting on for me? I find it nauseating."

"Maybe the sexual tension between us is just too much for you to handle," he said, taking a step closer to her. Jessimyn moved again to swing at him with the flat of her blade, but he he caught her wrist in his gigantic hand, then grabbed her other wrist as well. "Now, now. No need for violence. And no need to look so scared." He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. "I'll have you in my bed, of that I'm sure," he whispered. "But it will be when you come willingly." He let out a little yelp as she slammed her armored boot into his shin.

Berton dropped her hands and took a step back. "Alright, kitten. That's enough flirting for tonight."

He walked off as if nothing had happened. Jessimyn cursed under her breath. He wasn't even limping. It was late. What was he even doing out there? He must have known she had watch duty that night and had purposely waited until she was alone before accosting her. If only she could figure out a way to send him back to the Free Marches. But she didn't have that sort of authority. Not yet, anyway. She realized she was still gripping her dagger and resheathed it at her back.

Jessimyn turned and walked down the balcony, in the opposite direction Berton had gone. How was it that he was able to get under her skin so easily? She knew her anger only encouraged him to continue his offensive actions, but she couldn't help it. It had been a struggle not to shove her dagger straight through his throat, and the thought scared her a little. After all, Berton was a Grey Warden, he was supposed to be a brother to her. Jessimyn almost laughed, thinking of what her _real _brother would say, if he knew about Berton. Fergus wouldn't like the man any more than she did, she was sure of that.

Over the next few days, Jessimyn did her best to avoid any place where Berton might be, but he always seemed to find her. It was rare that he would actually speak to her, but she would turn around and catch a glimpse of him, staring at her as though she had no clothes on. She tried ignoring him, but it made no difference. She tried flirting with other men when he was around, but that didn't seem to bother him, either.

"You know," Zevran said to her, one day when they were out in the yards, when Berton was blatantly staring at her from across the yard, and Jessimyn was blatantly looking the other way. "If you'd just sleep with the man, he'd probably leave you alone." He had looked very amused as he said it, but he was no longer quite so amused when she punched him. "Or... maybe not," he said, rubbing his arm.

"Why won't he just leave me alone?" She grumbled.

"He's like a little boy," said Zevran. "A bully. He's used to getting what he wants, when he wants it. I'm sure he's never had a problem having all the tavern wenches he's ever desired, but you... ah, you are a challenge to him. A Grey Warden _and _a noblewoman. It's a game to him right now, but he'll lose interest." At Jessimyn's skeptical look, he grinned. "Eventually. Or if not, well... you do know a good assassin who might be willing to help you out, yes?"

Jessimyn laughed. "Don't tempt me. I might take you up on the offer."

"What offer?" Kyran asked, walking over to them.

"Oh," said Jessimyn. "Zevran's offered to kill Berton for me."

Kyran's eyes widened a little, and Zevran laughed. "Oh, don't look so shocked," said the elf. "I know you're not so terribly fond of the man, either. What was it he called you the other day?"

Kyran looked embarrassed. "The man in the dress," he said softly.

"See, that's not even clever," said Zevran, and Kyran blushed. "Oh, don't worry," he continued. "You're my favorite man in a dress."

Kyran turned an even brighter shade of red and stammered something about needing to do... something. He hurried off.

Jessimyn laughed softly. "That's not very nice, Zevran. You know he likes you."

"How could he not?" Zevran asked, trying to look innocent. "How could anyone not?"

"You know he has a _crush_ on you," Jessimyn clarified, and Zevran nodded.

"I... had a suspicion. But then, so do you, and I would tease you just the same." Zevran nudged her in the arm.

Jessimyn groaned. "Right. I'm going to go back to my room. Since Berton's out here, I won't have to worry about him jumping out at me when I go around a corner or something. I'll see you for dinner."

As she walked back inside, she could feel Berton's stare on the back of her neck. She tried to keep herself from speeding up, but it was a difficult thing. When she got to her rooms, she locked the door. While she didn't think the man would go so far as to try to force his way in, she didn't want to take any chances. As she turned around, her paper and ink bottles, sitting on a nearby table caught her eye. With a sigh, she sat down.

_No more procrastinating_, she thought as she picked up a pen.


	42. Alistair Chapter 42

Alistair stood on his balcony, overlooking his garden. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew it was late, probably a few hours before dawn. There was a light breeze, and it caused the paper in his hand to flutter. Jessimyn's letter had arrived the day before, but he'd been putting off reading it. There was no real reason why, but he found himself feeling nervous about it. He wasn't sure what he was expecting.

He looked down at it, but it was too dark to read, so he went back inside to sit next to his lamp. The letter was short, only a single page, and Alistair had to smile at the smudges left across the paper. There had always been smudges on the ledgers she kept for the Wardens. He let his eyes scan the page. Apparently Tivven had survived his Joining, which was good. Jessimyn had always taken the deaths during the Joinings with difficulty. She also talked about the hierarchy that had been established in Amaranthine. Apparently there were two other men who had been leading things, Berton and Herich, before she arrived. It sounded like it had been a trial for them to accept her as their equal. That angered Alistair a little. After all, from what she said, this Herich was from Orlais, while Berton was from the Free Marches. The Ferelden Grey Wardens should be led by a Ferelden, should they not?

He frowned as he read the other things she had to say about this Berton fellow. Only a couple sentences, but Jessimyn never really had anything bad to say about anyone, so if she didn't like this man, enough to write about it, then there was a reason. After all, she'd accepted Zevran as a friend, and the elf had once tried to kill her. When he read about Jessimyn's feelings regarding living in Howe's old home, Alistair cringed. The thought had never occurred to him, that she would be staying in the same place that her parents' killer once resided. How hard that must have been for her. He ran his fingers over the last line of the letter.

_I hope all is well with you in Denerim._

It was the only thing she'd included of a personal nature. It hurt, but what had he expected? That she would profess her love for him? That she would admit it had been a mistake to leave, and that she was coming back? Of course not. Well, not really, anyway. And would he have even wanted to read something like that? He wasn't so sure anymore. In the two months since she'd been gone, his feelings regarding her seemed to change daily. Sometimes Alistair respected the sacrifice she had made, thinking Jessimyn truly showed her love for him by allowing him to have some semblance of a normal life with Lyrina. Other times, he thought her a coward for running away. And sometimes, he wondered if maybe they had already grown apart, that he was in love more with the idea of her, of what they'd once had, than what they'd become.

He refolded the letter, slipped it back into its envelope, and placed it into his hidden drawer inside his armoire. It was then that Alistair noticed the tiny miniature he'd stolen from Fergus so long ago. He'd almost forgotten about it. There had been no reason to take it out, when she'd been in Denerim. When he wanted to see her, he could just go down to the compound to do so. He picked it up, running a finger over it gently. With the miniature in his hand, he walked back outside.

He'd been spending a lot of time on his balcony lately. His dreams, strange, twisted things, had been keeping him from sleeping, and he often woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. If he didn't know better, Alistair would have thought it was the nightmares returning, that it was his time, but that couldn't be. He still had over twenty years before that was supposed to happen. But perhaps that's why the dreams bothered him even more. They were filled with darkspawn some of the time, but there was always something else, something just out of sight that frightened him even more. He never saw it, but he could... feel it. Not exactly the same way he could feel the darkspawn, but similar to it. And there was always the sound of laughter off in the distance, high-pitched laughter that chilled him. It was that laughter which usually woke him up and sent him outside for fresh air.

It was a reason why he wished Jessimyn was still in Denerim. He couldn't really talk about the dreams with anyone else. Lyrina knew he was having nightmares, but he didn't tell her any of the details so as not to scare her. Besides, he didn't think she could really understand their significance, and why they frightened him so. He didn't feel close enough to any of the remaining Grey Wardens in Denerim to talk to any of them about it. He wanted to ask Jessimyn if she was having similar dreams, ask her what she thought they meant. But surely she would have mentioned such dreams in her letter, if she had been having them as well. Or would she?

"Bad dreams again?"

Alistair turned around quickly, keeping the hand holding the miniature behind his back. Lyrina stood there, at the door to his balcony, wearing a thick robe, her hair all askew. He'd been asleep in her bed when the dreams woke him up, and he thought he'd been quiet when he left and went back to his own room.

"Yes. Did I wake you? I'm sorry," he said.

Lyrina shook her head. "I woke up and you were gone, so I came to check on you." She walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm.

Alistair stiffened. He was in only his nightshirt, and it had no pockets. He didn't want to drop the miniature, but Lyrina would notice it in his hand if he moved. "I'm fine," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "I just needed some air. Why don't you go back to bed? I'll just stay in my room the rest of the night, so as not to disturb you further."

Lyrina looked disappointed, but she nodded. "Oh, alright. Goodnight, then." She rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek before going back inside.

Alistair scowled at himself for being so careless. At least he'd put the letter away. If he'd left it out on his table, Lyrina may well have read it. Not that there was anything overt in it to make her suspicious, but then, she was already suspicious, he knew. He'd noticed a change in her when Jessimyn left, almost a lightening of her mood. She had to know something, but she would probably never mention it, just as she'd never mentioned her suspicions about Leliana. And as he had felt with the situation concerning Leliana, Alistair almost wished Lyrina _would _confront him. He didn't like keeping things from her anymore. He'd been so flippant with her feelings before, and he didn't like the idea that his actions may have caused her pain.

After waiting a moment, Alistair went back inside. He kept his hand behind his back as he went through the door to his bedroom, but Lyrina was gone. He let out a sigh and went to put the miniature away. He held it in his hand as he looked into the drawer. It held not only Jessimyn's letter, but also all of the little gifts she'd given him. He placed the miniature inside, then tossed an old shirt over everything and closed it back up. Alistair knew that he probably should just get rid of everything, so as not to have painful reminders around, but he wasn't quite ready to take _that _step yet.

Alistair extinguished his lamp and crawled into bed. As he closed his eyes, he willed himself not to think about Jessimyn. When she had been gone before, he had known she would eventually return to him, but that was not the case this time. What good was it, he wondered, to hold onto someone he might never see again? Maybe she was right, maybe the healthiest thing for both of them was to move on with their separate lives. Of course, this was the same thing he'd told himself every night since she'd gone, and he still hadn't quite convinced himself yet. Eventually, he was able to push such thoughts aside, and sleep came to him.

When Alistair awoke the next morning, he rolled over to find Lyrina next to him. He must have made a surprised sound because she woke up and looked at him, giving him an impish smile.

"I... couldn't sleep," she said softly. "I came back over here to check on you again, but you were dead to the world, so I... climbed in bed with you. I guess maybe I've gotten used to having you next to me, and it's hard for me to sleep when you're not there."

Lyrina gave him an almost nervous look, and Alistair put his arm around her to pull her to him. A feeling of guilt passed over him. He knew he wasn't being fair to his wife. She had had as little say in their being married as he ultimately had, but at least she was trying to make it work. And it wasn't as if he didn't care about her. He did, and he knew she cared about him as well. Who was to say it couldn't turn into love, if he actually gave it a chance?

With his finger, Alistair tipped her chin up to press a kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry I kept you from your sleep," he said. He pulled her to him as he closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind of ideas such as love, or loyalty, or promises made. Instead, he just let his body feel, enjoying the warmth of the woman next to him, instead of longing for another who was miles away.

"Why husband," Lyrina said coyly as she wriggled up next to him. "I think you might be happy to see me."

He kissed her again. Maybe he was.


	43. Jessimyn Chapter 43

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sooo... another jump in the space-time continuum here. To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it. I feel a little like I'm cheating, like I'm just snapping my fingers and saying, "Okay, now it's like _this_." I would have liked to have a couple more chapters of character development (which some people probably think is lacking), but I'm sacrificing it to try to move along with the plot (which other people probably think is lacking). Let me know what you think. _

_~***~_

Jessimyn took a deep breath, bracing herself before she went into the small meeting room. She promised herself, as she always did before these meetings, that she would not lose her temper. Maybe she'd actually succeed this time. When she went in, she saw that Berton and Herich were already there, and she took her usual seat. While she had lived in Denerim, the two men had been running things there in Amaranthine. For the first month after she arrived, Jessimyn had been pushing to be seen as, at the very least, their equal. Neither of them were Ferelden, after all, and the rest of the nation saw her as the leader of the Grey Wardens, so why should she be content with being merely a figurehead? They had finally begun including her in their meetings, mostly at Herich's insistence, and for the past year that she'd been in Amaranthine, the three of them oversaw the workings of the estate. Not without a lot of arguments, though.

Berton continued to harass her, which she could mostly ignore except that he also made it well-known that he didn't believe a woman could be a suitable leader. Jessimyn could never be quite sure if he actually thought that, or if he just said it because he knew it irritated her. Either way, it was a rare occasion when a meeting didn't end with the two of them yelling at each other, which annoyed Herich to no end.

"She's finally here," Berton stated. "Now we can begin."

Jessimyn ignored him and looked to Herich, who was holding a number of papers. "Yes," he said. "We have had two new reports of darkspawn in the south, in the Southron Hills. The first one is like the others we've seen. Small groups of seemingly disorganized darkspawn, no clear objective that anyone can see, attacking at random. The other, though... they attacked a farmhouse. It seemed like a more planned attack. Still just genlocks and hurlocks, from the report, but there may have been something driving them. Thing is, the farmhouse had been abandoned since the Blight. A neighbor was in a nearby pasture and saw a group of..." He looked at the paper. "At least ten darkspawn on the land, and he ran away. When he got a group together to go back, the farmhouse had been partially burned, no darkspawn in sight."

"They didn't have any idea why they might attack?" Jessimyn asked.

Herich shook his head. "None. Said they hadn't seen or heard anyone living there for the past five or six years. Thing is, the darkspawn didn't attack this neighbor's farm, where there was apparently quite a lot of livestock. Doesn't make a lot of sense."

"So will you finally agree we need to send an army down there?" Berton asked, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

"We don't have an army," Jessimyn said, keeping her voice even. "Every time we've sent Wardens down there in the past, they haven't been able to find anything, other than a few stray darkspawn." She frowned. "I do think we need to send another group of people, though. If the darkspawn are organizing, we need to take care of it."

"Your gift at stating the obvious never ceases to amaze me," said Berton, turning to Herich. "I will lead a party this time. I'm tired of leaving it to a bunch of Wardens who can still taste the blood from their Joining on their lips. No, I'm the senior Grey Warden here. I will select a group and lead them myself." He turned his narrowed eyes on Jessimyn, as if waiting for her objection.

"I think that sounds like a good idea to me," she said. If Berton wanted to lead a group, she would willingly let him. She knew he would be thorough, but more importantly, it meant she would be free of him for a few months at least.

Berton smiled and turned to Herich, who nodded his agreement. "It is agreed then," said Berton. "I will select my Wardens, and we will leave the day after tomorrow."

"It is agreed," said Herich.

"It is agreed," Jessimyn repeated.

"Good," said Berton, reclining back in his chair. "You're coming with me, kitten."

"What? No. I..."

Berton cut her off. "You both agreed I would select the Wardens to go with me, yes?" He glared at both of them, and Herich nodded. Jessimyn wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Right. So I choose who goes with me, and I lead. Kitten, you're one of the best fighters we have. You're also the most experienced when it comes to darkspawn. If they really are organizing, we may need your expertise."

Jessimyn's eyes widened a little. That almost sounded like a compliment. "Who else, then?" She asked grudgingly.

Berton gave her a smug smile. "I don't want a large group. One that can move quickly and efficiently. Jandin should be included, I think. And Joffey."

"Kyran," said Jessimyn, and Berton laughed.

"The mage? He'd probably get winded before we even get to Denerim, and then he'd be looking for someone to carry him, and..."

This time, it was Jessimyn's turn to cut _him_ off. "Kyran marched with me from the Circle Tower to Weisshaupt. You underestimate him, Berton. Besides, while you may be foolishly convinced of your own invincibility, I am much more practical. Kyran is very skilled at healing, and his magic has already saved my life once. You'd be even stupider than I already think you are, if you leave him behind." Oops, there went the temper.

Herich sighed as Berton's face reddened. "Fine," he said. "You can bring your little pet. But he better keep up, and keep out of my way. Then we'll also bring..."

"Zevran," Jessimyn cut in.

If she thought Berton's face was red before, it was glowing now. "Absolutely not. He's not even a Grey Warden. He..."

"You're right, he's not a Grey Warden, so technically you can't tell him where he can or cannot go. If I leave, he will follow. Besides, he has seen and killed more darkspawn than anyone else here, save me. You want expertise? He is an expert."

They glared at each other until Herich finally cleared his throat. Berton suddenly smiled, which worried Jessimyn. "Fine," the giant of a man said. "You can bring both of your playthings with you. But remember. I'm leading. That means you do what I say, when I say it, and you don't argue with me. I won't hesitate to spank you, if you get out of line."

There was more glaring until Herich cut in. "Very well, you have your party set, and you'll leave in two days. Let's turn to other business, shall we?"

The rest of the meeting was the normal, dull business that was required for running such a large estate. They talked of money, food stores, costs for armor and weapons, and the like. When they finally finished, Herich scurried out quickly, as he always did, and Jessimyn moved to follow, but Berton grabbed her arm. Jessimyn yanked it free.

"Do _not _touch me," she said. "If you want something, you may ask it of me, but keep your hands to yourself."

"Now, now. Calm down. I just want to make sure you understand how this will work. I meant it when I said I don't want you arguing with me. I won't have you fracturing the group. I know you're used to leading, but you're going to have to relinquish that to someone else this time. There have been too many reports of darkspawn lately, and with this new one... things could be getting serious. For genlocks and hurlocks to attack an empty building while leaving easy prey alone, it doesn't make any sense. We need to find out what's going on, and I'm going to need everyone's help to figure out what it is."

Jessimyn was surprised. That was the longest, serious speech she'd ever heard from him. She nodded her head. "Very well. I will leave the leadership of the group to you."

Berton grinned. "That's a good girl," he said as he went to pat her on the head, but Jessimyn jerked her head aside. He just laughed and left the room.

If she'd had anything nearby, she would have thrown something at him. Why did he have to be so infuriating? And so disrespectful. At least he rarely did it around other people anymore, but that was hardly a consolation. She waited a moment, to be sure he was gone, and then she went to go find Kyran and Zevran. She found Zevran in the yards.

"What's going on?" He asked when she told him they needed to talk

"Let's find Kyran," she said. "And I'll tell you both at the same time." Together, they found Kyran in the estate's library. He was at his usual table, tucked into the corner of the room.

He looked up at her in surprise as she spoke. "Kyran, I need you to be ready to leave the day after tomorrow. We're going to be in a party traveling south, to the Southron Hills, to investigate some reports of darkspawn in the area." Jessimyn looked at Zevran. "I would like you to come with us, if you're willing."

Kyran smiled. "I don't get a say?"

Jessimyn quirked her lips. "No, and neither do I. Berton will be leading the party, and Jandin and Joffey will be coming with us."

"Berton leading," Zevran said, almost to himself. "But if he'll be in front, how will any of the rest of us be able to see around his enormous head? Of course I will go with you. I'm not here because of the food, you know. I go where you go."

Nodding, Jessimyn said. "Well, I had hoped... since I already told Berton you'd be coming along."

Preparations were made, and what packing that needed to be done was done. The evening before they were set to leave, Berton called the group together to go over the plans. He had a large map of Ferelden set out on a table, with markers placed over various areas in the south.

"Good, you're all here," he said. "We'll be taking the road south, past Denerim and South Reach. These marks indicate darkspawn sightings or attacks. This one right here," he said, pointing to a large marker south of Lothering. "This is where the farmhouse was that was attacked. We'll stop for a day or two in Lothering, to replenish supplies and gather any information the locals might have, and then we'll head to the farmhouse. From there, we'll see what we can sense and check out the other sites. Any questions?" No one had any, so he nodded. "Very well. Get some rest tonight. We're going to keep a swift pace. I want to get down there as quickly as possible. Dismissed. Not you, kitten. You stay a moment."

Kyran shot her a sympathetic look as the rest of the men left the room. Jessimyn crossed her arms as she waited. Well, at least he hadn't grabbed her by the arm again. Once everyone was gone, Berton went to sit down next to the table and gestured to the map. "I want you to look at it. I'm not from Ferelden, so I don't know the area as well as you. I know you've traveled quite a bit. Do you see any sort of patterns to these attacks? Anything that might be there that's not on the map, that might indicate why the darkspawn were there?"

She moved around the table so that she was standing at the southern edge of the map. It was larger and more detailed than any map she'd ever seen. The marks were spread all over the south, from the Brecilian Forest almost to Redcliffe, from just north of South Reach and stretching into the Korcari Wilds, though only a little. "I assume the colors mean something?" She asked, pointing to the markers.

Berton nodded. "Red marks are attacks from two or more years ago. Blue were around one year ago. Yellow are within the past six months. They're scattered, nothing to indicate it's one large group, moving in a particular direction."

Jessimyn frowned. "I... don't know. There are villages here and here," she said, pointing to two markers. "These through here follow some popular trade routes. In fact... hmm..." She leaned in close, running her fingers over the markers, tracing lines between villages and cities. "In fact, it seems like almost all of them do. See these three here? They run in a line between South Reach and Gwaren. Of course, these are not highly-traveled areas. It makes sense that any attacks would be on traveling merchants and peddlers."

"You think maybe the darkspawn are in need of some new thread or ribbon, or some other baubles?" Berton said from right next to her. Jessimyn hadn't even seen him move.

She took a step back from him. "Yes," she said flatly. "That's it exactly. They're obviously looking for sewing supplies and become enraged if they meet a merchant who doesn't have what they need." She rolled her eyes. "I'm simply saying these attacks are reported where people often are. It means nothing. So much of this area is so sparsely inhabited that we have no way of knowing how many are out there. Except that when we've sent groups before, they've never noticed any large groups, never even noticed any large darkspawn. If there's a pattern here, I don't see it."

Berton frowned. "I guess we'll just have to start with the farmhouse then, and go from there."

Jessimyn grinned. "A sound plan. I approve."

He scowled at her. "I was merely hoping you might know something useful, but I shouldn't have been so optimistic. I certainly wasn't asking your permission."

"Sounded to me like you were," she said with a smile. She quickly ducked out of the room, before he could offer a rebuttal.

The next morning they were all up before dawn to begin their journey. True to his word, Berton kept a hard pace, up and going by first light, and only making camp once the sun touched the horizon. It was around noon on the tenth day that they first saw Denerim, from a distance, and Berton informed them that they would be stopping there, to rest and pick up anything they might need.

Jessimyn felt strangely calm at the suggestion. There was no fear, no nervousness, not really even any anticipation. They would only be staying in Denerim the one night, but even if Alistair somehow managed to find out they were there before they left, she wasn't sure it was likely he'd visit.

They'd sent letters back and forth for the first few months after she left, but they'd stopped over six months ago. In Alistair's last letter, he'd mentioned Lyrina a lot, and he had actually seemed... happy. Oh, there had been an initial flash of jealousy at that, but it burned out, leaving Jessimyn with a sort of calm she hadn't felt in a long time. Alistair was happy. She hadn't responded to that last letter, but she was sure he understood why, and he wrote no more after that. Maybe they were both finally learning how to let go. Sure, she'd thought about their relationship over the past few months, but not really in a wistful sort of way. She'd gone from trying to convince herself that she'd done the right thing to actually believing that she had.

"Jess?" Zevran gave her a concerned look, and she realized the others had moved on while she'd been lost in thought. "Are you... all right?"

Jessimyn nodded at him. "I am," she said, and she meant it. "Let's go."


	44. Alistair Chapter 44

_Don't yawn. Do not yawn_, Alistair willed himself.

His jaw quivered a little, but he clenched his teeth together, hoping no one would notice. A quick glance to the side showed him that Lyrina was smiling a little. Damn her, she always knew. He turned his attention back to the two nobles standing before him. They were in the large meeting hall, and he was listening to the petitions brought before him. It was the last complaint he had to hear for the day, and he couldn't want to be done with it all. This one was a land dispute. They were almost all land disputes. The daughter of Lord Bellamy, the man on the left, had married the younger son of Lord Yorkis, who was on Alistair's right. The two lords had adjacent land, and they had gifted a small parcel of land each to give to the couple, on which they had built a manor house. However, the daughter had died after a sudden illness a couple years earlier, and the son was set to remarry soon. Lord Bellamy was disputing Lord Yorkis' son's right to keep the land.

"But it was a gift," Lord Yorkis was saying. "If it had been my son who died, you would not be disputing your daughter's right to keep the land."

Alistair held up his hand, and the men fell silent. He'd heard enough. "Lord Bellamy, what other children do you have?"

Lord Bellamy said, "I have two sons, Your Majesty."

Alistair nodded. "Your eldest son will inherit your own lands, of course, but why not promise one of your younger son's children to marry the eldest of Lord Yorkis' son and his new wife. That way, the land will stay in your family, the land will not be broken up, but Lord Yorkis' son will remain in possession of it."

Lord Yorkis seemed very pleased by this. Lord Bellamy just nodded and bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said.

As the two men were being shown out, and the people gathered began to disperse, Alistair rose to stretch his legs. A door at the back of the room opened, one only used by the king and his men. A guardsman came through, wearing the markings of one of the gateguards. After the guard bowed, Alistair nodded to him. "What is it?"

"Your Majesty, I bring word. Some Grey Wardens have entered the city. A group of six arrived about an hour ago, and they've gone to the compound."

He received messages such as these every few months. He'd heard the reports of darkspawn attacks to the south and had even sent some of his own men, but they'd found even less than the Grey Wardens had. There were still just too few Wardens in Ferelden.

"Are you... going to go down there?" Lyrina asked, her voice wavering a little.

Of course he was. He always did. And it was not in the hopes that he would see Jessimyn, or at least not _just_ that. He still wanted to know what was going on. Not only were these attacks happening in his lands, but he was still a Grey Warden. Why was it that Lyrina seemed unable to understand what that meant to him? If he just turned his back on the Wardens, it would be like turning his back on Duncan, or even on Cailan. And if Jessimyn ever happened to be with the group that arrived, well, he could finally ask her about his dreams. But so far, they'd been groups of men he didn't know.

"I am," he said. "You know I am."

She nodded, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. Alistair tried not to sigh. He had long ago stopped talking to her about anything concerning the Wardens because she seemed so... disapproving. He had invited her to go with him a few times, on trips to the compound, but she almost always refused. The two times she'd actually gone along, Lyrina made it pretty apparent that she was bored, so he stopped asking. She almost seemed to resent him having anything to do with the life he'd had before he became king.

After a quick check to make sure no one was really paying attention to them, Alistair leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be back in a few hours."

As he exited the room, he gestured for two of his guards to follow him, and they made the familiar trek to the compound. As he neared the yards, he stopped. There stood both Zevran and Kyran, along with two other men he didn't know. If they were here... Zevran turned and noticed him. He smiled widely and bowed, then jerked his head ever so slightly at Jessimyn's old quarters. So she was here, then. Alistair nodded at the elf, then walked up to the building.

"Wait here," he said to the guards, but they'd already taken their positions at the door. As he entered, he heard a loud, deep voice coming from Jessimyn's old office. Alistair knew that Vaylis and Jakob had both been using the office, as they'd been running things in Denerim since Jessimyn left, but it didn't sound like either of them. He went and knocked on the door. There were a few loud footsteps, and then it was yanked open.

"Yes?" A large man demanded. He was only a little taller than Alistair, but much larger, almost as big as Shale had been, and his body completely blocked the view of the rest of the room. His crooked nose wrinkled up as he asked, "Who are you?"

Behind him came a choked sound, and then Alistair heard Jessimyn's voice saying, "That's the king, Berton."

Ah, so this was Berton. Alistair did his best to look imposing, but the man was suddenly all smiles. "Ah, Your Majesty," said Berton. "Forgive me, I wasn't expecting such a visit." He turned his head a little to speak to Jessimyn over his shoulder. "Kitten, why don't you leave. Give us some privacy."

Kitten? Alistair raised his eyebrows at the man. "No," he said. "I insist that _Jessimyn_ stay."

If the man noticed the extra emphasis placed on her name, he didn't give any indication of it. Berton moved aside, and then he saw her. She was still in her armor, still a little dusty from travel, but she would never look anything but beautiful to him. No. He pushed that thought aside as he entered the room. Alistair took his normal seat in front of the desk, and Berton sat behind it, leaving Jessimyn to sit on one of the benches along the wall. Berton immediately began telling him of the recent attacks, of the farmhouse, and of their plans. The king found it harder than he thought it would have been to pay attention, with Jessimyn sitting to his side so that he couldn't see her, couldn't look at her.

"Well," said Alistair as Berton finished. "If there is any aid I can offer, please let me know."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he replied.

"Now then," said Alistair as he leaned back in his chair. "If you would excuse us, I'd like to speak with Jessimyn in private."

Berton did not seem to like that idea much at all, and he turned to glare at Jessimyn. He stood, offered a short bow, and then left without a word. Alistair watched him go. After the door had shut behind him, he said, "So that's Berton."

"The one and only," said Jessimyn, and Alistair turned to look at her. Their eyes met, and then Jessimyn looked away. After hesitating just a moment, Alistair stood and went over to sit next to her on the bench.

"How have you been?" He asked, his voice soft.

Jessimyn nodded her head. "I've been well. Minus the headaches, of course."

Alistair smiled. "Caused, perhaps, by the man who has just departed?"

Jessimyn returned his smile. "However did you guess?"

He couldn't help himself, and he asked, "'Kitten'?"

Her smile quickly turned into a grimace. "He's called me that since the day we met. I don't think I've ever heard him use my actual name. Berton has nicknames for almost all of the Wardens. Mine is actually one of the less offensive ones."

"He's quite the charmer," Alistair teased. "I can see why you're so taken with him." Jessimyn snorted, and he continued. "But why is he in charge of this expedition? Why are you not the leader?"

With a little shake of her head, Jessimyn said, "I'm sure you've known we've sent groups in the past. Well, with the latest news, Berton insisted that we needed to send more... experienced men, and he offered to lead the party. I hadn't planned on being a part of it, so Herich and I agreed that he would." She made a vague gesture with her hand. "In our meetings... it almost seems silly, but Herich insists on the formality. When one of us proposes something, and the others speak our agreement, it becomes binding. Berton proposed that he would select a group of Wardens and lead them on this journey, and Herich and I agreed."

"And then he selected you as one of his party members," Alistair finished for her.

Jessimyn nodded. "Exactly. So now I'm bound to follow his lead, as much as it pains me to do so. He's been a Grey Warden for nearly twenty years, but he hasn't seen the things we've seen. It chafes at him, I think, that someone so junior to him would have more experience."

"Especially when that someone is a woman?" Alistair guessed.

"So it would seem, yes. I don't know. Sometimes he just comes out and asks my opinion, but it's almost like he finds it shameful that he would need to." Jessimyn shrugged her shoulders.

"Well," said Alistair. "I hope you rub it in sufficiently, whenever he does."

Jessimyn laughed. "I do my best." Her laughter softened into a smile as she looked at him. "And how have you been? You seem... you look happy."

It was a question Alistair wasn't sure he wanted to answer. But he wasn't going to lie. "I am. Things are well in Denerim." He smiled at her. "I think I'm finally getting into this whole _king _thing. It's only taken me, what? Five years?" He paused a moment before continuing. "Though there's one thing... I wanted to ask you, if I ever got the chance." He turned, pulling a knee up atop the bench so that he could face her, and Jessimyn copied the position. "I... was wondering if you'd had any strange dreams lately?"

"Strange how?"

"Oh..." Alistair frowned. "Nightmares, mostly. Like the ones we had when we first went through the Joining."

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, I haven't. Why do you ask? Have you?"

Alistair nodded. "I'd had a few before you left, but they really picked up in frequency after. They're similar to the Joining nightmares, but different. There's darkspawn... no Archdemon, of course, but there's something else. There's always laughter, almost giggling."

Jessimyn wrinkled her eyebrows, biting on her bottom lip. "I remember you telling me once that some people are more sensitive to the nightmares than others, that some people have them almost their entire lives. But... you didn't have them before. Is it something that can change over a person's life?"

Alistair shrugged. "Not that I know of, but at this point, you have more Grey Warden knowledge than I. You haven't heard of anyone else experiencing... anything like this? Recently, or even in the past?"

"No," said Jessimyn, shaking her head. "Just the usual ones after a successful Joining. I can ask the other Wardens once I return to Amaranthine if you'd like, but that could be months from now."

Alistair shrugged. "I guess you could... let me know if you hear anything. It's just had me worried. Like the dreams we used to have with the Archdemon, it's almost like there's a message to these nightmares, like there's something being said, but I can't quite grasp it, can't quite understand what it is."

Jessimyn gave him a sympathetic look. "I wish there was more I could do. At least with the Archdemon dreams, we were both having them, so we could compare notes." She looked away. "It's too soon for the nightmares to be returning for you."

"I know," said Alistair, his voice soft. "I can't help but think of Duncan, of what he told me about his returning." He shook his head. "But you're right, it's too soon for me. Maybe they're just dreams."

Jessimyn looked at him again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Maybe, but you don't believe that, or you wouldn't have brought it up."

Alistair just nodded. It seemed so silly to him, but he was so grateful that she understood. The few times he'd tried to talk about them, even without the details, to Lyrina, she'd been so dismissive, telling him that everyone had bad dreams once in a while. But she hadn't been through the things they had, so how could he expect her to truly understand?

"Promise me," he began, then winced at his own words. He wasn't allowed to ask her for promises anymore, was he? Well, this was different. "Promise me you'll be careful. Maybe it's because of the dreams I've been having, or maybe it's just because you're going to fight darkspawn without me at your back, but please..." He tried to smile. "If I receive word of your death, I will be very upset with you."

Jessimyn returned the smile. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

"At least you have Zevran and Kyran with you. You know, so I'll know who to blame should anything happen." He looked at her closely as he said, "I think your brother might be quite put out with them as well."

Jessimyn laughed. "Surely you would have to place blame where it was due, and that would likely be on Berton's shoulders."

"And quite large shoulders they are. You're sure he's not a golem in disguise? He almost has the disposition of one." So it would seem, then, that Zevran still hadn't told her about his suspicions regarding her brother. Alistair hadn't really expected that he would have, but he wanted to know for sure.

"There are quite a few similarities between Shale and Berton, now that you mention it. Moody, demanding, never referring to me by my name... If only I had a control rod for _him_, my life would be so much easier."

"Oh, but you would find an easy life to be much too dull for your tastes," Alistair commented. "You need excitement and adventure." He chuckled. "I must say, I do miss it at times."

"What?" Jessimyn asked with a grin. "You miss sleeping on the hard ground, never having clean clothes, eating cold food?"

"You're right, I don't miss those things. I mean, look at you. You're filthy, and you've only barely begun your journey."

Jessimyn laughed again and nudged him with her knee. Alistair was shocked by the jolt that ran through him at her touch, but he forced himself not to think about it. "And on that cheery note..." Alistair stood. "I think this is that part where I must take my exit and go back to my dull life of mediating petty squabbles, while you go on to your grand adventures."

Jessimyn stood as well, and suddenly it was awkward as they couldn't quite seem to meet each other's eyes. _Oh, sod it_, he thought and leaned in to give her a hug. He kissed her above her eyebrow, then whispered, "I meant it, though. Please be careful."

Jessimyn gave him a little half-smile and nodded. "I will. I promise."

As Alistair made his way back to the palace, guardsmen in tow, his emotions and thoughts whirled in his head. They didn't manage to pull him under, however, and he had himself firmly under control as he climbed the stairs to the royal chambers. He didn't see Lyrina until later that evening.

"Any... big news?" She asked as they were on their way to dinner.

"News? No, not really. It's another group going to investigate rumors of darkspawn in the south. They're just staying in the compound for the night, restocking supplies, the same as all the other groups that have come through."

It wasn't a lie, not exactly. They _were _just passing through, on their way to the south. After all, she didn't ask about anyone in particular, so he didn't have to give any names. If she wasn't going to mention Jessimyn's name, then neither was he.


	45. Jessimyn Chapter 45

They were two days out of Denerim when Jessimyn asked Kyran if he'd been experiencing any strange dreams lately.

"Not that I can think of," he responded as they sat near the fire in camp. "But what exactly do you mean by 'strange'?" It was hard to tell, with the flickering of the fire, but he almost looked like he was blushing.

"Nightmares," Jessimyn clarified. "You know, similar to the ones you had after the Joining."

Kyran shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Not for years, anyway." He looked at her closely. "Why do you ask? You don't think this is another Blight, do you? Surely there couldn't be another one so close on the heels of the last."

"No," said Jessimyn. "I don't think it's another Blight. I remember what that felt like, and it's not the same."

"Are _you_ having strange dreams, then?"

Jessimyn knew she was going to get that question whenever she asked anyone about their dreams. She wasn't really sure how to respond. While Alistair hadn't said he wanted to keep his dreams a secret, he hadn't asked anyone else about them, either. Perhaps she would need to phrase her questioning a little differently in the future.

Something must have shown on Jessimyn's face, because Kyran continued without waiting for a response. "Things may be different for you compared to everyone else. You Joined during a Blight, which I'm told can make the dreams worse. Also, you killed the Archdemon and lived. If you're having nightmares again... well, I'm not sure there's anyone else alive you can compare yourself to."

Jessimyn nodded. The Archdemon, of course. What if... She smiled at Kyran. "Maybe you're right," she said. "Thanks." She stood up and walked away without another word, wanting to be alone. She removed her shoes before ducking into her tent and sat on her bedroll, pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around them.

What if it was Morrigan's ritual that had affected Alistair? She had said it would allow them to kill the Archdemon without dying, but she had never said what sort of effects it might have on either of them. And if she had known of any, she certainly would not have said what they would be. No, Morrigan had only told them enough to make them willing to go along with her plan. What if the ritual had somehow hastened the effects of the taint, made it so that Alistair had less than thirty years? But then, wouldn't Jessimyn feel some effect as well? After all, it was she who had killed the Archdemon, she who had cheated death. But then, those were questions she could ask of no one.

They stopped in South Reach for a day, giving them time to wash all of their clothing and pick up more food. There was no news of any recent attacks in the area, so they pushed on toward Lothering. They would travel a few days south from there, along the Imperial Highway, and then they would head east into the Hills. It was only a few days before they would reach Lothering, when Jessimyn decided to talk to Berton about the dreams.

He always took first watch, and she waited until everyone else had taken to their tents before approaching him. Berton always sat a ways away from the fire, so that its light would not affect his night vision, and his back was to her as she walked towards him. There was a little glimmer, as if the light from the fire reflected off of something in his hand, but it was gone by the time she went to sit next to him. He gave her an amused look and made a show of looking over his shoulder, as if to ensure that no one else was around.

"You wanted to be alone with me, kitten?" He grinned at her, but Jessimyn could tell that he didn't really relax, that he kept most of his attention on the land around them.

She hadn't sat too close to him, but Jessimyn suddenly felt the desire to scoot even further away. She refrained, though, as that would have likely just made him grin even more. "I had a question for you, actually," she said, trying not to sigh. Maybe this was a mistake, but there was no one else she could ask in the camp, and even if they were back in Amaranthine, Berton was probably the best to answer the questions she had. He gestured with his hand for her to continue. "I was hoping you might tell me what it's like, when the nightmares return, at... at the end of a Warden's life."

His eyebrows shot up a little. "I'm not quite so old as that," he said, and it almost seemed like their was a vein of anger underneath his normal, teasing tone.

"I know," Jessimyn said, meeting his eyes. "I know you can't speak from personal experience, but surely you've known men who could... and hopefully did. You know all of the Wardens in Ferelden are new. I'm one of the older ones, or at least one who's been a Warden the longest."

"You still have years before you have to worry about it," Berton said dismissively, turning away from her.

"Humor me," she said, lightly touching his arm. "Call it curiosity."

Berton's head whipped around, his eyes on her hand, and Jessimyn immediately withdrew it. There was something in his eyes as he looked up at her face, and it took everything in her power not to move away from him as he scooted a little closer to her. "I've heard men talk about it," he said, his voice low. "It's not just nightmares. We all have those. Yours have probably been worse than most, kitten. You've had an Archdemon singing to you in your dreams. No, from what I've heard it's that they call to you, pull at you. I've known men to try and ignore it, but they can't hold out for long. Once the nightmares return, it's only a matter of time."

That, at least, was a little bit of a comfort. Alistair hadn't mentioned any pull from the dreams, and it sounded like he'd been having them for over a year. Surely, it had to be something different, or he would have mentioned that. "Have you ever known the nightmares to return earlier? Just the dreams, though, not with this... pull." She tried to keep her voice light, but Jessimyn didn't like the way Berton was looking at her, like he knew she was trying to hide something.

He shrugged, his eyes on his face. "For some, the nightmares never really go away. I remember a man who used to wake up screaming at least once a month until his time came. But unless there's a Blight, they don't really just come and go. They tend to stay consistent. Why?" He was suddenly grinning at her. "Are you having scary dreams, kitten?"

Jessimyn rolled her eyes. She'd apparently gotten as much out of Berton as she was going to, and she moved to stand up. He reached for her arm. She was wearing her armor but not her gloves, so that her forearms and hands were bare. His fingers slid down her arm until her hand was in his, and he gave her a little tug to pull her close to him. Jessimyn had been in a half-crouch, about to stand, so she lost her balance and stumbled into him.

"There's no need to be scared, kitten," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "My watch will be over soon. Why don't you go wait for me in my tent? I'll help make all the bad things go away." His voice was low, a deep rumble in her ear, and Jessimyn shivered involuntarily. Berton noticed and he slid his free hand over her knee, along her leggings as it moved up under her armored skirt. "A woman as beautiful as you should never have to sleep alone."

Jessimyn jerked back as hard as she could, her hand swinging towards Berton's face, but he caught her fist before she could strike him. The hand on her leg was gone, but the smile on his face was wide. "Now, now, kitten. That's not very nice. You came to me, after all."

She tried to pull away again, but his giant hand engulfed hers. She knew he could easily break her fingers, if he just squeezed a little. "A mistake I won't make again," she said through clenched teeth. "Now let go of me." He released her hand, and Jessimyn stood up quickly. His low laughter followed her back to her tent.

Jessimyn stayed as far away from Berton as possible for the rest of the trip to Lothering. It wasn't that she was afraid of him, but rather she was afraid she might kill him. Every time she caught him looking at her, her hands twitched as she felt herself starting to go for her weapons. She had a strong feeling he wouldn't make it back to Amaranthine with the rest of them. They were in Lothering soon enough, though, arriving late in the evening.

It was fall, and the weather was fair. Jessimyn had to stop as they made it to the edge of the town, overwhelmed by the memories of the first time she'd been there. She remembered standing there with Alistair and Morrigan, trying to hold back the despair she'd been feeling. There was a strange sense, like she was living it all again, like there was an odd familiarity to it all. With a shake of her head, Jessimyn moved to follow the rest of her group, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd done this all before. The hairs on the back of her neck seemed to stand up, and it was almost like Jessimyn could feel someone watching her. There was no one there, though, other than the large crowds of people in the town.

Maybe that was something else that had her remembering the past. When they'd been there that first time, Lothering had been nearly overrun by refugees. It seemed nearly as crowded now, and they made their way to the inn to find out why. Apparently word of the attack on the farmhouse had made it around, and people were getting scared. There had also been another attack only a couple weeks earlier, on another empty home. A man and his wife lived there, but they'd been in Lothering for supplies, and when they returned, the house had been nearly torn apart. They couldn't say for sure that it had been darkspawn who did it, but everyone seemed convinced that's what it was. Berton went to try and find the couple, to question them, but they'd already left for Redcliffe a few days earlier, where the wife apparently had family living.

When word spread that they were Grey Wardens, the group found themselves surrounded by the masses, but Berton waved them off, assuring everyone that they were there to "...finish off this darkspawn threat," as he put it. He got them all rooms at the inn and told everyone they'd stay there two nights before moving on. While Jessimyn wasn't terribly excited about the delay, she was very grateful to be able to get a bath and her things laundered. When she finally made it back downstairs, the rest of her group was already there, gathered around a large table in the corner of the room. Most of them had already eaten, and apparently some of them had started drinking.

Jessimyn ignored the empty seat next to Berton and sat opposite him at the table, between Kyran and Zevran. She soon realized that wasn't much better, because now he could stare at her. As soon as she finished eating, she stood, excusing herself by saying she was tired and needed the rest. She could feel Berton's eyes following her as she went back up the stairs.

Once back in her room, Jessimyn let out a soft sigh. Why was she letting him affect her like that? But then, what else could she do? Short of actually killing him, which still had its own appeal, she wasn't sure what else she could do to make sure Berton knew she wanted nothing to do with him outside of their official Grey Warden capacity. She changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed. Jessimyn was about to blow out her lamp when a loud knock sounded at her door. She pulled on her robe, tying it tightly around her waist, and grabbed her sword in her hand before walking softly to the door. There was another knock.

She gripped the sword tightly as she called out, "Who is it?"

"Open the door," came a voice from the other side. "It's me."


	46. Zevran Chapter 46

The door opened just a crack, and Jessimyn stood there, the sword gripped in her hand. He grinned at her. "You were expecting someone else, perhaps?"

"Come in, Zev," she said, opening the door wide, gesturing to the room with the tip of her sword. It wasn't until after he was inside, after she'd locked the door behind them, that she set the sword down. "Expecting, no," she said in answer to his question. "Dreading might be a better word."

The rooms in the inn were very small. The beds were a strange size, more than large enough for one person, but almost too small for two. _Unless one of them is an elf,_ Zevran thought, trying to keep Jessimyn from seeing him smile a little. Other than the bed, the room only held a small table with washbasin and a chair, which currently held one of Jessimyn's bags. "I don't think you need to worry about Berton tonight," he offered. "After you left, his focus shifted to a comely young serving wench who didn't seem too upset with the attention. Perhaps he has decided to pursue easier prey, yes?" He sat down on the corner of her bed.

Jessimyn made a disgusted sound as she moved to sit next to him. "Whatever gets him away from me, I suppose. As long as _she's_ willing, that is..."

"Oh, she seemed willing enough, when I left. Quite content to sit in the lap of one of the fabled Grey Wardens." Zevran laughed when she rolled her eyes.

"But I assume you didn't come here to talk about Berton, did you?" She asked him, trying hard to keep her face blank.

Zevran wondered what she _did _think his reason was for being in her room, and he suddenly wanted to touch her. He trailed his fingers lightly up her arm. "That's not exactly why I'm here, no, although what I wanted to talk about does involve him." She raised her eyebrows at him, and he smiled. "I want to know about these nightmares you've been asking the others about."

Her face really was blank this time as she looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

Zevran clicked his tongue. "My dear Jessimyn, there's no need to try and feign ignorance. Kyran told me about your conversation with him, and I... overheard the one you had with Berton a few days ago."

"Overheard?" Jessimyn asked, rising to her feet. "You're spying on me now? And what did Kyran tell you? Does your pillow talk now include discussing me?"

Zevran laughed, looking up at her. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you almost sounded jealous. But you know Kyran is much too shy to let me anywhere near his pillow. That doesn't mean he won't come to me when he's worried about you, though. He asked how things had been for you during the Blight. For Alistair as well." He tried to watch her face closely, but she turned away from him. "But yes, I did listen in on your conversation with Berton. I could tell you were waiting to speak to him, and..." He shrugged.

Jessimyn turned to face him. "And what? Now who's the one who sounds jealous?"

Zevran leaned forward and took her hand, pulling her to sit next to him. "Come now, Jess. This is not a game we play. Yes, I eavesdropped on your conversation with Berton. Be upset with me about that if you wish, but I did not come here to seek your forgiveness for what I did. I came because I'm worried. I could understand asking Kyran, but if you sought Berton's help, then it means this is something serious. So what do these nightmares you've been having mean?"

Jessimyn sighed and pulled her feet up underneath her. Her robe gaped at her waist, but she appeared to be wearing one of her frumpy, full-length nightgowns beneath it. She ran her fingers through her hair. "It's not me who's been having the nightmares," she said after a moment, and her words had a reluctance to them.

"Then who..." Zevran began, but he realized he knew the answer to that question. "It's Alistair who's having the dreams, isn't it? Tell me why this has you so worried."

"You wouldn't understand," Jessimyn said softly, looking at her hands.

Zevran put his hand over hers. "I would if you explain it to me."

She looked at him a moment before nodding. "Nightmares come with being a Grey Warden. It has to do with the taint. During the Blight, Alistair and I both had the nightmares on and off. It's like... like the Archdemon was calling to us, in a way. But once the Blight ended, once the Archdemon was dead, it was different. Some people have nightmares until... their entire lives. But most don't. Not until..." She sighed. "Grey Wardens usually only live about thirty years after their Joining. At that point, the nightmares return, and... well, you were listening in, you heard what Berton said about that."

"So if Alistair's nightmares have returned, that means it's near the end for him?" He didn't mean for his words to have any sort of bite, but he watched Jessimyn flinch as he said them.

"It can't mean that," she said, a gruffness to her voice.

"It can't? Or you don't want it to?" He held up his hands at her hurt look. "I would not wish such a thing on him, of course. But if that's not what it means, then what _does _it mean? Surely you have an idea, yes?"

Jessimyn opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Zevran could see the struggle on her face, like she wanted to tell him, but wasn't sure she was willing to give up her secrets just yet. He touched her face. "You can't hold everything inside, you know. I would think you could trust me by now, Jess. What is it that scares you?"

Her voice was so soft, Zevran had to lean in a little to hear her as she spoke. "What if something we did made this happen?"

"What do you mean by _something you did_? Talk to me, Jess. What is it you did that you're worried about?"

Her sigh was long and harsh. "It's not that I don't trust you, Zev. You know I do. But it's not just _my_ secret to tell."

"Of course," he said, moving his hand from her face to her shoulder. "It is also Alistair's... and perhaps Morrigan's?" Jessimyn flinched again, and he knew he had her. "So whatever this magic is that you did with Morrigan, you're afraid it has caught up with you? But why just Alistair? Surely, if that's what it was, wouldn't you be affected as well?" He watched as a blush stained her cheeks, and Zevran drew back from her. "It seems like there is much you haven't told me..."

"I can't," she said, and her voice sounded weak... almost pathetic.

"Tell me, Jess," he said, his voice forceful. "Whatever this magic was, you must have done it so that it would affect you both, as you had no way of knowing who would take the killing blow. If Alistair had been the one to shove his sword through the Archdemon's brain... but it wasn't him, it was you. So what did you do, that you fear it's hurting him and not you?"

She shivered and pulled her robe tightly around her, even though it was rather warm in the windowless room. "It wasn't just a simple spell," she said finally. "Not something where she just... waved her hand, and we were saved. It was... old magic. Blood magic, probably. I remember you asking me in Weisshaupt if it was something Wynne wouldn't have approved of. It was. She wouldn't have. It was... it was a sex rite."

Zevran's eyebrows climbed up. He hadn't been expecting that. "You and Alistair?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "Alistair and Morrigan."

Zevran laughed. He couldn't help it. The thought of the two of them together was... funny. Jessimyn elbowed him in the arm, and it just made him laugh harder. "I'm sorry, Jess," he said, trying to catch his breath. "I know you're worried. I don't mean to laugh. But Morrigan and Alistair..." He grinned but managed to refrain from laughing again.

Jessimyn stood up, an angry look on her face. "I'm so glad I trusted you with this," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now please leave."

Zevran stood, placing himself right in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders, but she jerked back, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "I won't leave, not yet," he said, his voice serious now. "Do you think this magic is hurting him now? Why now? The Archdemon died nearly five and a half years ago."

It seemed Jessimyn was trying to hold onto her anger, but her worry seemed to be winning out. "I... don't know. But it's the only thing I can think of. The magic, it... was tied to us being Grey Wardens, tied to the taint. If not that, then what?"

Zevran reached for again, and this time she didn't pull back. He moved his hands up and down her arms. "To that, I couldn't even begin to guess," he said. "How do you know it's not tied to the increased darkspawn activity of late? I assume Alistair told you about these nightmares during our stop in Denerim, which would mean they're a new thing. Maybe they have nothing to do with magic at all."

"Maybe..." Jessimyn said, looking to the side.

"Are they hurting him?"

"I..." She shook her head. "I don't think so. They're just worrisome."

Zevran took a step closer, moving his fingers up to touch the exposed skin at her neck. "Then perhaps, and I do not mean to seem unkind by saying this, but perhaps you should let him worry about it rather than you. You have other, more pressing concerns here. You're tense enough as it is, without adding his... problems on top of your own." He ran his fingers lightly over her collarbones.

She turned her head, rubbing her chin against his hand. "You piss me off, and now, what? You're trying to seduce me?" The look on her face was amused.

Zevran grinned. "Well, I was trying to be subtle about it, but since you've figured out what I'm doing..." He slid his arms down to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. "Think of it as my way of apologizing."

Jessimyn pressed her hands to his chest. "Zevran..." she said, giving her head a little shake.

He rubbed his hands in little circles at the small of her back. "There's no reason for this forced celibacy you've taken on since we arrived in Amaranthine. It's been over a year now." She didn't pull away, but she kept her hands up, between them. He leaned in towards her, and Jessimyn startled back. He moved her hands from his chest. "Let me kiss you, Jess," he said.

Zevran leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers. It was almost strange, that in all the times they'd been intimate before, they rarely kissed. He'd never liked that, and it was something he'd been meaning to make up for. He waited for her to respond to the kiss, and when her fingers pressed into his waist, he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as he pressed his body to hers. She opened her mouth to his, and their tongues danced against each other.

When Zevran pulled back, Jessimyn's face was a little flushed, and he grinned. "Your face is all red, my dear," he said. "But then, it is warm in here. Perhaps you don't need this robe?" He gave the belt of her robe a little tug, causing it to fall open.

"Zevran..." she said again.

He pushed the robe off of her shoulders to drop to the floor. "Give me a reason why we should stop," he said. "Or just tell me to go, and I'll go."

But she didn't tell him to go, and in only a matter of moments, her nightgown was on the floor next to her robe, along with Zevran's boots, breeches, and shirt. He ran his hands up over her naked breasts as he pressed his body to hers. "It's been too long, Jess," he murmured before bending down to take a nipple into his mouth. She gasped as he ran his tongue over her, her fingers moving to run through his hair.

Jessimyn took a step back, crawling up onto the bed, and he followed after her, ending up on his hands and knees over her. She ran a hand over his chest, fingers moving down to stroke him until he became fully erect. Zevran closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of her hands on him, and then he moved his hand between her legs to repay the favor. He moved his fingers in and out of her wet folds, smiling as she arched her back. His fingers moved with a teasing slowness, one he knew she wouldn't be able to take for long. He knew his hands got more of a response out of her than anything else he might do to her, and Zevran loved to watch Jessimyn's face as she neared orgasm.

He could tell she was getting close, as her hand on him had slowed its movement, and he scooted back from her. Jessimyn's eyes popped open, and he could her need clearly in her face. He leaned down to kiss her.

"Please, Zev," she moaned against his lips, and well, he was never one to deny her anything she wanted. With a quick thrust, he was inside her. He put his hands to either side of her head, holding himself up so he could look down at her. Zevran continued his slow movements, and she gripped his shoulders tightly as she wrapped her legs around his back. Shifting his weight so that he could support himself with one hand, he moved the other up and down her chest, squeezing her breasts before his fingers stopped to lightly trace the scar from the wound that had nearly killed her. He caught her looking at him, and he leaned down to kiss her again. For some reason, kissing her excited him almost more than touching her did.

Jessimyn's breath came faster, and Zevran knew she was getting close. He again placed both hands on the bed so that he could watch her face. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, mouth open. Her hands moved to grip the sheets beside their bodies, and he watched as her skin turned pink, her body shuddering beneath him. When her breathing returned to normal, she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him gently back. Zevran slid out of her, and, with a little effort, Jessimyn flipped over onto her stomach, lifting her bottom up into the air. Just as he knew what she liked, she also knew what he liked. He pulled his knees up a little as he grabbed onto her hips, and then he slid back inside her.

She pressed back against him, and his thrusts grew faster. Jessimyn slid a hand beneath her, so that her fingers touched him as he moved in and out. She pressed herself back against him, and soon it was he who was groaning against her body. He ran his hands up her sides, pulling her arms up over her head as he collapsed on top of her. In a quick movement, he rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so that her back was pressed against his chest. Zevran ran his hand over her breast as he pressed kisses down her neck and shoulder.

It seemed the bed was just the right size for two people... as long as one of them was an elf.


	47. Jessimyn Chapter 47

From a distance, the farmhouse looked ordinary, like any other you'd see in traveling through the Southron Hills. There was one large tree on the northern side of the house, but it was otherwise situated in an empty field, overgrown with weeds. There was a small pen on the southern side of the house, or at least there had been. The fencing around it looked as if it had fallen into disrepair in some parts, while others look like it had been trampled down. Of course, who would expect darkspawn to use the gate? The windows of the home were open, but no curtains flapped in the light breeze. It was very clear that the building had been abandoned for a while, but the real damage was only visible at the back of the house.

From the back, it looked like a burnt building. Some of the wall had fallen down to show what had once been a kitchen. The thatched roof had completely burned away, so that every surface inside was covered with ash and dirt, reduced to a muddy paste in some areas where the rain had come in. Some small weeds pushed up between cracks in the floor, one of the most telling signs that the fire had not been recent. But there was a stillness to the place that seemed to make everyone wary, one that made everyone hesitate getting too close.

When they first arrived at the farmhouse, they'd split into two groups, making a slow circuit of the land in either direction around the building, meeting again in the back. No one sensed any darkspawn near, but there was still a feel to the place that Jessimyn didn't like. There was a strange sense of familiarity that she couldn't place, and while the weather had cooled as the season moved firmly into autumn, it didn't explain the goosebumps that rose up on her arms. It was almost like she could sense someone watching them from a distance, but it went away whenever she tried to focus on it. If anyone else felt the same thing, no one was saying.

With a wordless gesture, Berton led everyone inside the house. Everyone moved much more slowly than normal, as they couldn't be sure how stable the building was. That the beams in the ceiling hadn't fallen yet was a good sign that they hadn't been too badly damaged by the fire, but no one wanted to take the chance that today might be their day to fall. And while no one was really sure what they were supposed to be looking for, they all seemed to be determined to leave no stone unturned.

Berton and Joffey began inspecting the kitchen, where they entered the building from the back, and the rest of them spread out. Kyran and Zevran moved to the main living area, and Jandin followed Jessimyn down the narrow hallway to the bedrooms in the front of the house. There were two small bedrooms, and without words, Jandin went into one while Jessimyn checked the other. A part of her was bothered that no one seemed to want to speak, but what was there to say, really? When she picked up the small doll lying on the ground and noticed the flecks of blood clinging to its dress, she was suddenly grateful for the silence. They'd said the farmhouse had been abandoned when the attack came, but the sight of the blood-covered doll still bothered her more than it should have.

"Jessimyn?" Jandin's voice called from the bedroom next door, and she nearly jumped.

Cursing herself for being so on edge, she went over, standing in the doorway of the room. It was almost too small for the two of them, or maybe it just seemed that way. He was standing on the far edge of the room, behind the bed, his eyes focused on the floor. When he didn't look up, Jessimyn walked over to him to see what held his attention. At first, her mind seemed to refuse to make sense of what was lying there, though her nose tried to confirm what her eyes didn't want to see. The smell of decaying flesh rushed up at her, and Jessimyn felt her stomach clench.

"Oh, Maker," Jandin muttered under his breath, his face pale, and he fled from the room.

It couldn't be called a body, not exactly. Rather, it was more like pieces of a body. She didn't want to see it, but her mind was trying to arrange everything, like a puzzle. There was a hand, and part of a foot. Another large piece of... something was lying against the wall, and from the splatters, it looked like it had hit the wall and slid down to its final resting place. Jessimyn backed up fast, nearly tripping over the bed as she tried to make it out of the room. Blood and death she'd grown used to, but this... this was something different.

She didn't know where Jandin had gone, but his quick exit of the room had drawn the attention of the others, and they were crowded in the hallway. "What is it?" A voice asked, but she couldn't even tell who had spoken. She lifted her hands, trying to push through the men in front of her.

"Get out of her way," said another voice, one she was pretty sure belonged to Zevran, but she didn't wait around to find out. She hurried out the door until she was standing outside. Jessimyn gulped the fresh air, pressing her trembling hands to her eyes. She tried hard not to listen to the sounds of Jandin losing his breakfast in the bushes nearby. Control, she needed control. She'd seen worse than this... hadn't she?

She jumped when she felt a hand on the small of her back, and Jessimyn opened her eyes to see Zevran standing in front of her. He said nothing, for which she was grateful, but instead he held out his canteen to her. Jessimyn pressed the cool metal to her face before taking a long drink. Capping the canteen, she handed it back to him.

"Did you see?" She asked, and he nodded. "You didn't let Kyran..." she began, and he shook his head. The thought that he'd kept Kyran from seeing seemed to ease some of her tension more than the fresh air had, and she leaned against him. "Thank you," she said softly, and Zevran's arm tightened around her a little.

The others came out of the building. Kyran looked worried but otherwise fine. Joffey's face looked as pale as Jessimyn was sure her own looked, but Berton's face was a mask, almost empty of emotion, though he looked a little tight around the eyes. That tightness seemed to increase when his eyes flickered to Zevran's hand on Jessimyn's waist, but he made no comment about that. There were more important issues to discuss just then, after all.

Jandin rejoined the group, and Jessimyn could tell he was embarrassed. He wiped his mouth, trying to stand up straight, and he spoke first, as if trying to regain something he felt he'd lost. "There were two bodies, I think. But not both human. There were... pieces of darkspawn as well as human, did you see?"

Berton gave a grunt. "Aye, though there was little left of either of them. What was there, though... it hadn't been disturbed. There shouldn't have been anything there to see. Scavengers from miles around should have taken care of all that long before we got here. Why is it still there?"

"Magic," said Kyran before anyone else could respond. All eyes turned to him. "Wards have been set on this place, meant to keep... danger out."

"Then why were the darkspawn able to get in? Why were we?" Berton asked, and Jessimyn was happy he didn't sound condescending. Maybe the man could be serious when he needed to be.

Kyran clasped his hands in front of himself, aware that he held everyone's attention, but he didn't seem as nervous as he usually was when the focus was on him. "They weren't strong wards. I don't know if that means that the person who set them was not a strong mage, or they were meant to keep from attracting attention. If one of the darkspawn emissaries was near, and the wards were strong, it would be able to sense them, even if they couldn't pass them. These wards would have been harder to sense from a distance, but if it got close enough to sense these weaker wards, it wouldn't have been too hard to break through. Wolves and the like are not quite so clever. Even if they got close enough to smell... what was in there, they would ignore it. Their minds wouldn't be able to focus on it." He gave a small shrug. "Wards are generally not very specific. This one... it feels like it was meant to keep out danger, harm. As that is not our aim here, the wards don't affect us. That and they're starting to fade."

Berton took a step closer to Kyran. "Can you tell when they were set?"

Kyran gave his head a little shake. "Not with any sort of precision. I don't know exactly how strong they were when they were set, but I wouldn't say they've been here for long. Maybe only since around the time that the attack happened. They've definitely not been here as long as the neighbors say the house has been abandoned."

"And the neighbors saw no one," Berton frowned. "But there were obviously at least two people staying here when the attack came."

"Not necessarily," Jessimyn said, and Berton narrowed his eyes at her.

"The dead human could not have killed the dead darkspawn," he said slowly, as if explaining something to a small child.

Jessimyn tried not to sigh. "Perhaps," she said. "But if the dead human was a mage, he could have cast a spell that killed them both. If he knew he was going to die, he might have. Or, if there was an emissary present, he could have cast a spell aimed at the man, and the dead darkspawn could have been caught in the way."

The frown stayed on Berton's face, but he turned back to Kyran. "Can you tell if magic killed them? What type of magic, and who may have cast it?"

"Sadly, no," said Kyran. "That sort of magic leaves some residue, but if it was there, it has long since dissipated. I don't sense any other type of magic here, other than the wards."

"I think you're probably right, though," Jessimyn said to Berton, and he gave her a surprised look. "There probably was at least one other person here, when the farmhouse was attacked. The darkspawn seem to be... searching for something, though I have a hard time understanding that. But if there were wards on this house, a group of simple genlocks and hurlocks would have likely just avoided it. If they had an emissary, it wasn't just a simple scavenging trip. They had a purpose for being out here, and no matter what happened here in this place, they didn't get what they were looking for."

Zevran was nodding at that. "Because of the other attack, the more recent one we heard of in Lothering. It would seem they're still looking for... something."

"I have a feeling, when we check out that other home, we'll find wards around it, too," said Kyran.

Jessimyn watched Berton's face. The tightness never left his eyes, and she could tell he was getting angry, perhaps that the others had seen things he had not. Well, if he thought he could really lead this group, then he was going to have to step it up. "We're not done looking around here," he said, and he went back into the house.

They spent a few more hours looking around, but there was really nothing more to find. The house had been abandoned for years, and if someone had been staying there right around the time of the attack, well, they hadn't brought a lot of personal items with them. That, or there really had been a second person there, and they'd fled. Either way, Jessimyn didn't like it one bit. Why would the darkspawn have any reason to track someone down?

The other house was only a few days away, and they went straight from one to the other. They found it to be a lot like the first. Kyran could feel the wards, stronger this time, but still weak enough that they shouldn't have been felt from any great distance. There were no bodies this time, or pieces of bodies, but there was much more blood. Perhaps there had been as much blood at the first place, but it had been worn away by the rain and the other elements. It was hard to say for sure. One thing was certain, though. The darkspawn were definitely tracking something, and they were very serious about finding it.


	48. Jessimyn Chapter 48

The next few weeks were spent traveling around the area to check out the other sites of previous attacks, but no findings were anywhere near as blatant as what they found at the two houses. In fact, in most places they went, they were unable to find anything at all, sometimes not even an assurance that they had the right place. Berton tried to only go to places where an attack had occurred relatively recently, but there weren't always signs. It often felt like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack, and by the time they finally made it back to Lothering, everyone was feeling a little grumpy, especially when Berton informed everyone that they would only be resting for a couple of days, then they would be traveling east, to spend at least a month checking out sites in the Brecilian Forest.

It seemed like Berton was having a hard time admitting to the rest of them that he had no idea what they were doing. Jessimyn knew he would have been much more comfortable if they had been attacked outright by a large group of darkspawn, but that wasn't the case. In fact, they saw no sign of recent activity at all, nor did anyone ever sense anything as they moved about. If the darkspawn had been searching for something, it seemed like they'd either found what they were looking for, or given up. Even when previous parties had been sent south, they always seemed to sense some darkspawn activity, but there was nothing there now.

Lothering still appeared to be filled to the brim with people, and Berton even had to bully the innkeeper into juggling some people around so that the Grey Wardens could all have rooms. Jessimyn bathed and asked for food to be brought to her room. She couldn't help but compare her current traveling companions with those she'd had before, and she found the current ones lacking. While she got along quite well with Zevran and Kyran, of course, she wasn't so sure about the other three. Joffey was very dull. He never seemed to have anything interesting to say, but he would still talk for hours if she let him. She knew more about the man than she ever would have cared to, from the size of his immediate and extended family, to the fact that he liked black shoes much more than brown ones, to which foods made him a little gassy. It would have almost been funny, if the man didn't seem to take himself so seriously.

As for Jandin, he was rarely serious. Everything was a joke with him, and it irritated her, though nothing irritated her quite so much as when Zevran tried to compare the man to Alistair. Sure, Alistair had a corny sense of humor, but it was cute and endearing. Jandin was just annoying. The problem was that he seemed to know she felt that way, and it only egged him on. And maybe one of the reasons she found him so irritating was that Berton thought Jandin was the funniest person alive. As for Berton, well... she didn't want to think about him at all.

Once Jessimyn had finished her meal, along with a few glasses of wine, she pulled out a sheet of paper, her pen, and some ink. She'd been contemplating writing to Alistair since they'd found the first farmhouse. She wanted to tell him about what they found, as well as what she'd asked the others about the dreams. The problem was that there was no secure messenger in Lothering that she could trust to get the letter to him. In Amaranthine it hadn't been a problem because there were people going back and forth from there to Denerim all the time, but it wasn't the case in Lothering. There were birds, of course, but for some reason she'd never trusted a bird with an important letter. She almost laughed aloud, wondering what Shale would think about that. Still, it was probably her best option. Sure, there were merchants who moved back and forth, but she would never trust one to deliver a letter for her, Grey Warden or no.

So she sat, staring at a blank piece of paper, wondering if she should even bother. But what would it hurt, really? She could keep the correspondence vague enough that if it fell into someone else's hands, it wouldn't really matter. She kept the letter short, as she knew most carrier pigeons would not carry anything too large, and she signed only her initials at the end. Once the ink was dry, Jessimyn rolled it up and sealed it, pressing the signet of a rampant griffin into the wax. Then she went to deliver the message to the pigeon keeper.

Most cities and towns had one, and Lothering was no different. The building was small and smelled of guano, but what was one to expect? After paying the keeper, she watched as he attached the letter to a bird with a purple band around its foot. Purple was for Denerim, she knew. Each color, or combination of colors, stood for a different destination. Red for Redcliffe, Green for Highever, White for the Circle Tower. There were some that were striped, usually for smaller villages, but Jessimyn only really knew the major ones. Still, she didn't like putting her trust in an animal that could suddenly decide on its own where to go. She figured she'd write another letter once she returned to Amaranthine with the same information, assuming they didn't stop in Denerim again on their way back... assuming they went back any time soon.

As Jessimyn walked back to the inn, she let herself think on the things they'd seen the past few weeks. Nothing had been worse than that first farmhouse. She still couldn't figure out why it bothered her so much. She'd seen what darkspawn could do to people, but something about that house bothered her, almost like a tickle at the back of her neck that she couldn't quite reach. Berton had insisted on collecting all of the... pieces of the bodies before they left, to burn. He said the dead man deserved that at least, but no one had been too eager to do any of the collecting. Jandin had tried to make a game of it almost, as if to make up for getting sick, but even Berton got annoyed with that. No, it wasn't the manner of the deaths, though that had certainly been a shock when they first saw it. There was something else about it that bothered her... she just couldn't figure out what it was.

As Jessimyn was nearing the inn, she saw a group of people coming into the village, and there was something strange about them. There were two men, probably about ten years older than she was, four women of about the same age, a woman who was probably thirty years older, and seven children, who looked like they ranged in age from about four to twelve. Oh, and a baby that one of the women was carrying. As they got closer, Jessimyn realized what caught her attention. They were carrying no belongings. The childrens' faces were dirty, with streaks running down where they'd obviously been crying. One of the men had his arm in a sling, and the older woman had dried blood in her hair. Jessimyn hurried over to them.

"What's happened?" She demanded, and one of the men just gave her a weary shake of his head.

"We just... we need food. Please, for the children," said one of the women. She had matted brown hair, and she may have had blood on her face, too, but she was so dirty it was hard to tell.

"You're hurt," Jessimyn said gently. "What happened?"

"Monsters," said one of the older children, a boy of about ten. He had hair the color of straw, and his brown eyes would have been pretty, if they weren't so wide with fear.

Jessimyn looked at the adults. "Darkspawn?" She asked.

"Aye," said one of the men. "Two days west of here. Our homes..." His eyes took on a far away look, and one of the smaller children started to cry.

Jessimyn tried to get them into the inn, but there was just no room for any more people there. When the others heard about what happened, Berton and Jandin went with her to take the people to the Chantry, where they were at least given a place to sleep and food to eat. The three of them sat with the adults to find out what had happened.

They were all family, all related. The two men were brothers, and the women were either wives or sisters to the men. The old woman was the matriarch of the family, the eight children her grandchildren. They all lived on a large set of land, in three different houses for the different families. Apparently late at night, three nights before, they'd been awakened by horrible sounds coming from their barn. The men had gone out to see what was going on, and they'd found it overrun by darkspawn. From what Jessimyn could gather, they were only smaller creatures, still just genlocks and hurlocks, but that was bad enough when you knew you had children nearby to protect. The old woman's husband, as well as one of her daughter's husbands, were killed, and their barn had been set on fire.

Jessimyn wanted to ask them how so many of them had managed to make it away with their lives, but there was no easy way to ask such a question. She'd no sooner thought it, though, when the old woman spoke.

"We should all be dead. We thank the Maker for sparing us, but we lost my Richard, and my Saira lost her husband as well. Oh, Maker. What are we going to do?"

One of her sons tried to comfort her, but she just sobbed. Berton drew the other son away from the rest, beckoning Jessimyn to go with him. When they were out of earshot of the others, Berton began his questioning.

"They attacked your barn? Not your homes? Were there animals in the barn?"

"N..n..no, my lord. That is, yes, they attacked the barn, not the house. We keep some animals, but they wander free. Some would have been in the barn, I'm sure."

Berton grunted at him. "I'm not a lord, good man. Call me Berton, please. Tell me, and I do not mean to offend, but does anyone in your family do magic?"

Jessimyn quirked her lips at his phrasing but waited for the answer.

"No, of course not, my... Berton! We have no mages in our homes. We are good, simple folk," the man said, looking shocked at even the suggestion.

"Can you tell us if there might have been anything... unusual in your barn?" Berton tried to make the question sound casual, but he could never quite pull of the nonchalant act.

"Unusual? N... no, not that I can think of. We don't use it much this time of year, when the weather is fair. In the winter, we pen up the animals, but now... it's mostly for storage," the man said, shaking his head.

"Did the darkspawn try to attack any of your family directly? Did they come at the houses?" Berton's eyes were wrinkled up as he asked, which seemed to make his nose look even more crooked than usual.

"No. My mother is right, we should have been dead. They killed my father, and my sister's husband, but they were the first ones to the barn. When I got there, they'd already set the barn on fire, and then... then it was like they were just gone. We were terrified, and we mostly managed to get the fire out, but... what was the point? I don't know if we'll ever be able to go back."

Jessimyn and Berton exchanged a look. It made no sense, that the darkspawn would have just left, as if they were more bent on the destruction of the barn than the killing of the people who lived there. Berton frowned, seemingly deep in thought, and the man seemed uncomfortable with the silence. He kept glancing back at his family, and Berton finally said, "Please come back with me to the inn. I'd like you to show me on a map where your homes are. We will leave first thing in the morning to check things out."

The man's eyes widened. "We... but, my lord... Berton. We cannot go back, we cannot! The children are terrified, and we don't know if those things are really gone. And..."

Jessimyn cut him off, placing a hand on his arm. "Berton meant that _we _would go. The Grey Wardens. You and your family will stay here in Lothering."

The man nodded, some of the terror leaving his face. He went with them back to the inn, and soon Berton had another marker on his map. He let the man return to his family, and he called the rest of the Wardens together, informing everyone that they would be leaving at dawn the next day.

_So much for rest_, Jessimyn thought as she trudged up to her room to begin repacking her things. But then, she hadn't really wanted to rest, had she? No, she wanted to be doing something. Well, this was something, was it not? The attack was only a few days ago, and from where it lay on the map, Jessimyn knew they could be there by the end of the next day, if they kept a hard pace, and she knew Berton would push them. They finally had a trail that was only days old, instead of weeks or months. Maybe they would finally be able to figure out what was going on.


	49. Jessimyn Chapter 49

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: So... it's been a shamefully long time since I last updated. However, to make up for it, this is my best chapter yet! Well... at least it's the longest :-) I hope you enjoy it._

_~***~_

Even though Berton had everyone up and ready to travel by the time the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, it was nearly full dark before the Grey Wardens made it to the group of farmhouses. The journey had been easy, and though the sky threatened rain, thankfully it held off. Rain would seriously hinder any chances they might have of finding tracks or other clues once they arrived at their destination. Jessimyn noticed that the mood among the others was rather somber, as if directly speaking to the survivors of this most recent attack had somehow made it all the more real to everyone. Where normally Berton had to yell at Jandin and Joffey to keep up, they seemed the most eager to get to the farmhouses before nightfall. However, when they finally got there, it was too dark to do anything that night.

With the light of the moon, they could easily make out the four buildings, or at least their shapes, but nothing more. They chose the largest building, other than the barn of course, to sleep in. Kyran had been uncomfortable with that, with sleeping in the homes of the "victims," as he called them, but Berton quickly convinced him that they could serve the families better if they were well-rested the next morning. When morning finally came, the six of them stood outside, surveying the land. The three houses and the barn formed the edges of a large square, in the middle of which was farmland. On the other side of the barn, opposite the houses, was the grazing land, it seemed. Jessimyn didn't really know for sure, though. She'd never been around farms before. There was still the faint smell of burning in the air, as if parts of the barn continued to smolder. Berton split everyone up into pairs to scout the immediate area. He had Zevran and Kyran make a circuit of all the buildings, to see if any more wards could be found, while Jandin and Joffey were sent to look for tracks in the fields and grazing lands. Berton had Jessimyn join him inside the barn.

The barn looked just like any other building of its kind... well, with the exception that it had recently been set on fire. The large front doors had been thrown open, so that, along with the holes in the roof, allowed for plenty of light inside. The faint smell they'd noticed outside was much stronger standing in front of the entrance, and Jessimyn could smell burnt hay and wood and... flesh? They moved inside slowly, careful as they were before to watch for anything above that might look like it was going to fall. However, it didn't look like the fire had really taken hold very well, and three of the four outer walls were fully intact, while the fourth was still somewhat whole. The building stretched back away from where the two Grey Wardens stood, with stalls on either side of a long walkway that led to the back, where a ladder led up to a small hayloft.

As Jessimyn crept slowly past the stalls, she drew her dagger. Berton kept near her, and while he didn't hold his weapon in his hand, she could tell he was ready to draw it if the need arose. They had only gone a short ways when they noticed the first bodies.

"This doesn't make any sense," Berton grumbled as he stood beside the first stall they came to. He drew his sword and prodded at the two bodies lying there. "From the wounds, it looks like these darkspawn fought each other." He turned and went to the stall across the walkway. "Three more bodies over here, and... well, not many humans could wield the axe that one's got stuck in its back."

Jessimyn followed after him. "It doesn't make any sense," she agreed. "Why would they turn on each other? I don't think they would, unless there was some sort of magic involved."

Berton turned to look at her and nodded. "Magic, yes... but not the same as we've seen before. The wards we saw in the other places were set to keep things out. These... are much more offensive than defensive, it would seem. Come on, kitten. Let's keep looking."

Jessimyn resheathed her dagger so she could hold a hand over her nose. The further back they got, the more bodies they found, and the worse it smelled. They were all darkspawn, genlocks and hurlocks, and they all looked like they'd fought against each other. They could find no sign of any human bodies, not even those belonging to the men who had died here trying to protect their land. However, when they made it nearly back to the ladder, when they passed the last stall, Jessimyn suddenly felt as if she'd been plunged into cold water. The feeling passed as quickly as it came, but then she immediately felt... hungry? Her eyes fell upon one of the mutilated bodies on the floor, and she tilted her head, wondering what darkspawn meat would taste like. Sure, the people who ate it went crazy, but... she shook her head, trying to clear it. It was like a fog had settled, and she couldn't think straight.

There was a low growl behind her, and then Jessimyn felt herself being pushed up against a small table set against the far wall. The hunger she had felt was replaced by fear, by an intense need to flee. Shouldn't she... fight back? She began to struggle, but she felt Berton's large hand close over her own, and he put the weight of his huge body against hers as he pushed her forward, pinning her hands above her head. There was nothing but panic now, and while a small part in the back of her brain seemed to be telling her to... do something, it was drowned out by immediate need to run away. She jerked on her hands, trying to pull them free when she felt him lift up her armored skirt. He only needed one hand to hold both of hers down, and he used the other to rip her leggings, leaving her almost completely bare from her waist to her knees.

Her struggling intensified, but it didn't seem to do her any good, and she felt Berton push his knee between her legs, to pry them open. It was when she felt his hand fumbling between her legs that she let out a yelp. That sound seemed to loose some sort of dam inside her, and Jessimyn began screaming as loud as she could. She had to run away, she had to flee, she had to...

"Stop!" She heard someone shout, but she didn't know who it was, or who they were talking to. More men here? More people trying to hurt her? "No," the voice said again, the tone urgent. "Don't go in there." Then it was like the air stiffened around her, and the man who was holding her hands down released them and seemed to fall away.

Without further thought, Jessimyn ran blindly towards the back of the barn, but there was no way out from there. She turned around, her eyes wild. There were four men standing in a group, and behind them was a door. Through the door, she knew, she could escape. But how was she going to get past the men standing in front of it? There was another very large man lying on the ground, seemingly frozen in an odd position, but she didn't pay him any mind. He was not the dangerous one... was he? The men standing there seemed to be speaking, but she couldn't hear them over the blood whooshing in her ears. There was another moment of confusion, but then the fear overrode her, and Jessimyn barreled towards the doorway, intent on pushing her way through the people blocking her way. When she got past the first stall, it was again like being plunged in freezing water, and she came to a halt.

"What..." She shook her head looking back at Berton. "What... just happened? He..."

"There's a... it's not exactly a ward, more like a spell, on this part of the barn," said Kyran, and his voice sounded shaky. "It... it feels odd to me." He glanced at the others, then back at Berton, who was still lying on the ground, frozen in place. Even frozen, though, the rage in his eyes was clear. Kyran quickly looked away from him to the others, to Jessimyn. "I'm going to go stand at the edge of it, see if I can feel what it is and how to undo it. If..." His eyes were a little wide as he asked Jessimyn, "Grab my robe? Pull me back, if I start acting... strangely?"

"I'll do it," said Zevran, moving forward. He touched Jessimyn's arm lightly. "Maybe you should... wait outside."

"Why would I..." Jessimyn began, but then her voice left her. The last of the fog seemed to leave her head, and she realized what had just happened... or had nearly happened, anyway. Her face reddened with anger. "Berton tried to..."

Kyran cut her off. "It's the magic, Jessimyn. There's something dangerous in here. We need to get Berton out, and then we can discuss what just happened." His voice took on a pleading tone. When she didn't say anything further, Kyran took a step forward, Zevran's hand on his back. When the mage got right about to the point where Jessimyn had experienced the cold-water sensation, he stopped. He held his hands up, as if testing something in the air, then he quickly took a step backwards, nearly falling into Zevran.

"It's... we have to get him out." He looked at the others. "Everyone, back up. I'm going to release the holding spell on Berton. When he's able to move, he'll likely come charging towards us. Hopefully when he gets past that point..." He made a vague gesture with his hand, indicating the place where he'd just been standing. "...he'll come back to his senses, as Jessimyn did. But we all need to get out of this barn."

"_Hopefully _he will?" Zevran demanded.

Kyran gave him a pained look but turned to face Berton. "Everyone move back," he commanded, and then he waved his hand. Sure enough, once the spell holding him in place was released, Berton jumped up and ran towards the group. Jessimyn felt another flutter of the fear she'd felt earlier, and she stumbled backwards, but right before he made it to them, he stopped. His face seemed to go blank, and then he shook his head.

"What just..." Berton turned to look over his shoulder, then back to the rest of them. "What are you all doing here? And why..." His eyes fell on Jessimyn, and then his gaze went lower. Jessimyn looked down as well, noticing the tattered leggings hanging down from just above her boots. Berton's face visibly paled. "Maker... what..."

"Please," said Kyran. "Outside. I think I can explain it, but we really need to put some distance between ourselves and..." He didn't finish, and he didn't have to ask twice.

Once everyone was outside, they all spread out. Jessimyn moved to one side, and Zevran followed closely behind her. She could tell by the tension in his body that he was preparing for a fight. Jandin and Joffey put some space between themselves and Berton, who looked stricken. Kyran stood just in front of the door.

"I found some traces of some wardings," Kyran began. "Similar to those we've seen before, but what's in that barn is different. It's... well, it's evil. It's magic I've heard of... sort of... but I've never seen or felt anything like it before."

"He tried to rape her," Zevran spat out. "And no one's going to do anything about it?"

Zevran took a step forward, but Kyran moved in front of him. "Wait," said the mage. "Just... hear me out. Let me try to explain what happened." He very pointedly looked at neither Jessimyn or Berton as he spoke. "It's a distraction spell, of sorts. While the others were made to make the person inside the warding go unnoticed, this one..." He shook his head. "It seems like it was meant to reduce the person, or creature, who passed through it to their most basic animalistic tendencies."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jandin asked.

"You know... the four Fs?" Kyran looked at all of them, but everyone's face looked as blank as Jessimyn was sure her own looked. Kyran sighed. "You know... um... there's fighting, or fleeing. Um... feeding, and... uh..."

"Fucking," Joffey supplied.

Kyran blushed a little. "Well, I was going to say 'fornicating', but yes. The ward, or spell, or whatever, seems to have been meant to strip a person of all higher brain function. Stripped down to your most basic needs, it would be hard to keep other things in mind. It's actually... quite good, as far as distractions go... if you don't care what becomes of the people who are affected by it."

The others looked a little skeptical, but Jessimyn nodded. "When I..." She paused and had to clear her throat. Her voice didn't normally sound so hoarse, did it? "When I was... inside the ward... the first thing I wanted to do was eat. That doesn't make any sense, considering the circumstances. The smell in there is terrible, but I was staring at a body on the ground, wondering what darkspawn meat would taste like."

Berton nodded as well. "It was the same for me. I suddenly felt like I was starving, until..." His eyes met Jessimyn's, and he started to look away, but then it seemed he forced himself to meet her gaze. Jessimyn had never seen him look so pained, so... sad, even? "...until I saw you standing there, and then..." Then he did look away.

"And all I could think is that I had to get away, that I had to run. It didn't even occur to me that I could fight back, only that I had to get out of there," Jessimyn said, her voice soft.

Zevran moved as if to touch her, but Jessimyn pulled away. She didn't want anyone touching her just then. After a short, awkward silence from everyone, Kyran cleared his throat. "I can tell what the spell is supposed to do, but I don't know how it was made. Like I said, I've heard of such things, but I'd never seen such before. Before I touched it, I thought I might be able to undo it, but I don't think I really can, which means we can't go back inside the barn."

"Well," said Berton, trying to regain his composure. "I guess we know why the darkspawn were killing each other inside. But why would anyone cast a spell like that?"

Kyran shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It does seem rather drastic. Maybe... maybe the person was trapped, no way out, and they wanted a way to escape as well as a way to help ensure they wouldn't be followed? I don't know. But that can't have been an easy spell to cast. It's certainly nothing a Circle mage would know how to do."

"So we're looking for an apostate, then," said Jandin. "One that the darkspawn are trying to track down. Funny, I didn't think the darkspawn had templars in their ranks." He looked around at everyone. "That... was a joke. Too soon?"

"Let's keep looking around," said Berton. "Kyran, why don't you come with me, show me the other wards you found." They walked off, and Jandin and Joffey just shrugged and went into the fields beyond the barn, leaving Jessimyn and Zevran standing in front of it.

"Jess..." Zevran began, but Jessimyn shook her head.

"I need to change, and then we can continue our search," she said and headed towards the house where they'd stayed the night before. Zevran followed her into the room where they'd set out their bedrolls, since there hadn't been enough beds for everyone. Jessimyn dug through her pack and pulled out another pair of leggings. She sat on a chair and pulled her boots off, then peeled off the shredded leggings.

"How can you be so calm?" Zevran demanded.

Jessimyn looked up at him. "You heard what Kyran said," she said, surprised by how emotionless her voice was. Was she calm? Or was she in shock? Hard to tell.

Zevran shook his head. "We can't trust him, if he would do something like that..."

"Zev," said Jessimyn. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and took a deep breath. "You didn't feel what it felt like in there. Besides," she said, lowering her hands to look at him. "I trust _Kyran_. Don't you?"

Zevran sighed and moved over to her, but Jessimyn turned her attention to pulling on her new leggings, then she put her boots back on. Standing up, she finally looked at him. "Ready?"

They continued their searching for a number of hours. They had all started to get discouraged until Joffey found a fresh set of faint tracks, definitely not darkspawn, and they were leading away from the barn, in the opposite direction of Lothering. "These can't have been here for more than a few days," he said. "I don't think there are a lot of people just passing through, so maybe these belong to our apostate."

"What about darkspawn tracks?" Jessimyn asked.

Joffey gestured back towards the farmhouses. "They seemed to have come from that direction, but all the ones I've found are going in. I haven't seen any coming out. Maybe they all... killed each other?"

"Well," said Berton in a gruff voice. "That might solve one problem. Still, we need to find out what we can about this mage. We still have hours of daylight left, and I think we've found all we can here. Let's get our things and start following the trail."

They packed up as quickly as they could, and Joffey started scouting ahead. It was slow going, and they had to stop and backtrack a couple of times, but Joffey was one of the best trackers the Grey Wardens had. The sun was just beginning to set when they came upon an abandoned fire pit. Joffey knelt down next to it. "This was used only a day or two ago."

"Well done," said Berton. "Let's go ahead and make camp here for the night. We'll pick up the trail again tomorrow."

There was little conversation as the tents were set up, and less as everyone sat around the fire, eating. Jessimyn was sitting by herself, a little ways away from the others, and she was glad that they allowed her that. She didn't think anyone knew quite what to say to her, but that was all right. She wouldn't have known what to say, either. The cup of tea in her hands had grown cold as she stared into the liquid inside, when she heard a soft clearing of the throat. She looked up to see Berton standing there. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced over to see Zevran walking towards them, an angry look on his face, but she held up a hand for him to leave them be.

"Can we... talk?" Berton asked, his voice nervous.

"We're talking," said Jessimyn.

He shook his head. "No, I mean... in private."

The smile she gave him didn't quite reach her eyes. "We're in camp, aren't we? It doesn't get much more private than this."

Berton made a vague gesture with his hand. "I mean away from the others. I... need to tell you something that I don't want to be overheard." Jessimyn hesitated, glancing again over at Zevran, who hadn't come any closer but didn't look happy about it. Berton took a small step closer. "Please, Jessimyn," he said.

Maybe it was the _please_ that did it, or maybe it was the fact that he used her name, but Jessimyn nodded and stood up. "Very well."

Berton turned and walked a little ways off. They had made their camp in a small clearing, and he moved only to the edge of it. There were a number of trees and fallen logs, and he sat down on one, his back to the camp. As Jessimyn moved to sit next to him, though not too close, she noticed that they were still visible to the camp, and she was surprised by how relieved that made her. She didn't have to look back to know that Zevran would be watching them.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Jessimyn stared straight ahead, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Berton working up to something. She wasn't sure what he was going to say, wasn't sure what sort of response he was going to expect from her, so she just sat and let him work it out for himself.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, and Jessimyn jumped a little. "I need you to know I would never..." His voice sounded so pained that Jessimyn turned to look at him. Berton met her eyes. Despite his large size, he almost seemed small to her, like he was trying to pull in on himself. She'd never seen him look so serious before. He took a deep breath and started again. "I've never made a secret of the fact that I would gladly welcome you to my bed. You know I'm attracted to you, and I think that we... well, that's not the point right now. But I would never... _force_... anyone into something like that. Ever. I am sickened by my actions."

Jessimyn was stunned. She wanted to be angry at him, at least a little, and yet... "You heard what Kyran said. Neither of us had control of what happened."

Berton shook his head. "He said we were acting on our own base desires. So maybe I couldn't control myself, but the desire had to be there in the first place..."

She closed her eyes for just a moment, having a hard time believing she was going to say this. "The desire to what, Berton? To sleep with me? You just admitted to me that you... want that. I felt hungry. While I normally have the desire to eat, I can't say that I've ever rationally wanted to eat darkspawn meat. I'm not going to assume this means I have some hidden need to do so, just as I'd assume you don't have a hidden need to... take advantage of someone who hasn't..." She trailed off, not sure of the right phrasing to use.

"Did you know I was married?" Berton asked, not looking at her. Jessimyn gaped at him a little, surprised by the change in subject. "We were both seventeen, completely in love. Her name was Pennyla. She was the first woman I ever felt anything for. We lived with my parents after we were married. Not a copper between the two of us, but it didn't matter." His eyes took on a far-away look. "She was beautiful. Long, brown hair that fell almost to her waist. Blue eyes so deep you could almost drown in them. She was everything to me."

He turned his gaze to Jessimyn as he continued. "We were out one day. My father had grown annoyed with us mooning all over each other, so he constantly tried to find tasks for us to do. He'd sent us to a nearby town for... I don't even remember what. But we were taking our time, paying more attention to each other than what was around us, when we were accosted by a group of thieves. Bandits. Whatever you'd like to call them. They were very disappointed when they realized we had nothing of worth for them to steal. So they decided to take Penny instead." He shook his head, and it almost seemed like there were tears in his eyes. "They had three men hold me down, so I had to watch as the rest of them took their turns with her. Then, when they were done, they cut her throat and stabbed me twice in the chest." He moved his shirt to show two scars, in nearly the same place as the one Jessimyn had on her own chest.

"My father sent my brother and my uncle after us when we didn't return. They found us lying in the road. I don't know why I didn't die. To this day, I still question why the Maker took her and not me. But I didn't die. I healed, and I vowed I would never be that helpless again. I started training with whatever weapon anyone could teach me to use. I've always been big, strong, but I didn't really know how to use it. I focused everything I had on learning to be a better fighter, with some crazy notion that I'd someday find those men and kill them for what they did to her. Instead, years later, the Grey Wardens found _me_. They convinced me that this was a better cause than vengeance."

Berton gave a small shake of his head. "I do not tell you this for pity, so please stop looking at me like that. I only told you because I want you to know that I would never do to you, to anyone, what those men did to Penny. I guess I'm just grateful that you were at least able to scream, to bring the others to stop me before I..." His voice cracked, and he looked away.

Jessimyn sat there, shocked. She thought she had been in shock before, but this... she didn't know how to respond. She'd never known anything of Berton's past before, and she was willing to bet no one else knew it, either. What was she supposed to say? She _did_ feel pity for him, but she didn't want to. This was Berton, after all, the man who did his best to torment her at every chance he got. Strangely, she hadn't really wanted to know that he was anything more than just irritating. "I'm sorry," she said finally.

Berton laughed. "You're sorry. Just like a woman, to ruin my apology by trying to add one of your own." He smiled at her, the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth. "I really just wanted you to know that... well... that you don't have to be scared of me. Not for that. Don't think this means I'm going soft on you, though."

She couldn't help but think that he was forcing the teasing a little, as if trying to make them both forget what had happened early, but she let it go. She didn't want to dwell on it any more than he did. He'd said what he needed to say, and Jessimyn knew what had happened was the fault of neither of them, so why focus on it anymore than they had to? "I would never think that of you, Berton. I know better."

He grinned. "Beauty and brains. You are quite the woman, kitten."

"So I've been told," Jessimyn said as she stood up. "Well, if you're done crying on my shoulder, then I'm going to go get some sleep." Hey, if he could poke at her, she had the right to do the same to him. Besides, as little as she liked the way he acted towards her, the shameless flirting was much better than the seriousness she'd just witnessed. She really didn't want to see that side of him.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I need a hug. Let me bury my face in your bosom as you hold me and tell me everything will be all right."

Jessimyn rolled her eyes. "Good to see everything is back to normal. Good night, Berton."

As she made her way back to her tent, she noticed that most everyone else was already inside their own. Only Jandin sat outside, near the fire. He was taking first watch that night. He nodded to her as she ducked inside her tent. Once inside, she quickly stripped off her armor and tunic, then scrounged in her back for a clean chemise to sleep in. As she turned to her bedroll, she gave a start as she realized Zevran was there waiting for her, a small smile on his lips. She'd just completely undressed, and she hadn't even noticed him there. At least it was too dark for him to see the flush of her cheeks.

He tugged the corner of the bedroll aside for her to climb in next to him. Jessimyn hesitated a moment before joining him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his lips pressed to her ear.

"I'll leave if you want," he said in the barest of whispers. "I just... wanted to hold you and thought you might be able to use the comfort."

She brushed her lips lightly across his and snuggled into his arms, realizing that she _did _want him there. Zevran was good that way. He always seemed to know what she needed, sometimes before even she did, but he never asked more of her than she was willing to give. He didn't ask her to talk about what had happened, he didn't repeatedly question whether or not she was all right. He just held her.

When she awoke in the morning, Zevran was gone from her tent, and for that she was grateful. She had no wish to make her private life public knowledge to the others around her. Berton may have confided his secrets in her, but she wasn't willing to return the favor. After a quick breakfast, they packed up their things and continued following the tracks they had found. However, after only a few hours of travel, the tracks seemed to become clearer, more easy to follow, and they were able to pick up their pace. As the sun once again began to slip towards the horizon, Berton started looking for another place to camp.

They moved through the trees, looking for a clearing large enough for all of their tents, when they noticed a flicker of light. As they came to the edge of the tree line, they found themselves looking out onto a small field, in the middle of which was a cookfire. The figure huddled next to it stood, and a voice called out, "No need to hide, like I don't know you're there. Why don't you all join me?"

Jandin moved out of the trees and towards the fire before any of the others could object. Jessimyn sighed, but she and the others did the only thing they could do at that point. They followed.


	50. Alistair Chapter 50

It was late, and there were few people out as Alistair made his way down the hallways to his bedchamber. Of course, he was walking through the royal apartments, so there were few people, other than guards and servants, who even had access to that section of the palace. Teagan had come to visit, bringing along his new bride to meet both Alistair and Eamon. The three men had stayed up long after their wives had gone to bed, reminiscing about old times. It was almost strange, that the stories that had once seemed so sad and painful became funny when they mixed a little alcohol in.

As soon as Alistair made it into his sitting room, he pulled his boots off and tossed them near a chair. He began pulling the rest of his clothing off, eager to collapse into his bed, and when he opened the door to his bedroom, he was dressed only in his breeches. He shut the door behind him and turned to his bed, but then he stopped when he realized he wasn't alone. Lyrina was sitting on the corner of his bed, dressed in her nightgown and robe, her hands clasped calmly in her lap. How long had she been sitting there, he wondered. She had gone to bed hours earlier.

"Waiting up for me?" Alistair asked, a smile on his face, but his wife didn't return the expression. "What is it?" He asked, and she looked away. "What's wrong?"

"I knew you'd be up late," she said. "So I came in here to pick out something for you to wear for tomorrow. I know you have a tendency to send your servants away when you stay up late, and I didn't want you to just grab the first thing you set your hands on."

"I don't know if I'm as bad as all that..." Alistair began, but Lyrina cut him off.

"I was looking through your things when I found these," she said, placing her hand upon a stack of papers sitting next to her that Alistair hadn't realized were there.

"And what are those?" He asked in a cautious voice, though he was fairly certain he knew what she had found.

"Don't play stupid with me, Alistair," Lyrina said, her tone harsh. "You know very well what they are." She grabbed a few of the papers and held them up in the air. "They're letters. From... her."

Alistair sat down in a chair near the bed with a sigh. "Letters from one Grey Warden to another, Lyrina. Informing me of what's been going on in Amaranthine." He paused, trying to decide how to explain it to her, but she didn't give him a chance.

"You've gotten letters from Amaranthine for years, but you've only saved the ones your _precious_ Jessimyn sent you. You know, I started having suspicions about the two of you, not too long after she came back to Denerim, but I had hoped I was wrong. I had hoped that her leaving might give us the chance we needed, but you've kept in contact with her."

Alistair just looked at her. Well, she was finally confronting him. He'd wanted that, in a way, for years, but now that it was happening, he wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't going to lie to her, as he knew he owed Lyrina the truth. But he didn't want to hurt her, either. "She is a Grey Warden," he tried again. "And I am as well, no matter how much you'd like me to ignore that part of my life. I have duties as a king, but I still have duties as a Grey Warden as well. I took an oath, and I will fulfill it as best as I'm able. But yes, I kept Jessimyn's letters. She means more to me than any of the other Grey Wardens. You know what we went through together. I've told you the stories, and I'm sure Leliana has told better versions of them."

Lyrina shook her head. "Don't act like it's nothing. They may not be love letters, but..." She looked down, flipped through the stack of papers, and picked one up to hold. It was apparently the letter he'd received only the day before. "This one... she writes, _...I've asked the others about that matter you discussed with me when we passed through. No one else seems to be experiencing the same thing, so I do not know what is causing it. I will continue to look into it..._" She looked up at him. "When they passed through? So she was with this most recent group?"

"She was," Alistair said, keeping his face as blank as he could.

"You lied to me, then. When I asked who they were..."

Alistair shook his head. "No, I did not lie. You didn't ask who it was, only why they were here. I told you it was a group passing through, which was true. I didn't see the need to tell you the members of the group, since you wouldn't know who most of them were. Even I didn't know who most of them were."

"But you knew her. You knew she was here, and you went to see her." Lyrina crumpled the letter and tossed it aside. "What was the matter you asked her to look into?"

That, at least, was an easy enough question to answer. "The nightmares. I know you don't think they're anything to worry about, but you don't understand what nightmares mean to Grey Wardens. I wanted to know if anyone else was having them as well."

"I see..." She peered at him. "And did you fuck her, while she was here?"

Alistair's eyes widened a little in shock. Not so much from the accusation, as he assumed that was what she was getting to, but rather at the language. He'd never heard Lyrina use such words before, and they seemed strange coming from her mouth. "No, Lyrina. I did not."

She drew her feet up underneath her and wrapped her arms around herself. A shiver ran through her, and she rubbed her hands on her arms. Alistair felt a strong desire to go to her, to hold her, but he knew she wouldn't want it. He forced himself to stay in his chair. "No," she repeated, the sarcasm strong in her voice. "Not then, perhaps, but you've been with that whore before, I'm sure."

Alistair clenched his teeth together, willing himself to stay calm. "You will not speak of her so, Lyrina," he said, his voice soft. "But yes, she and I have... been together. Jessimyn is the first woman I ever... had any sort of relationship with."

A look of surprise, quickly followed by a look of pain, crossed Lyrina's face, and she looked away. "Well," she said bitterly. "How can I compare to that?" She turned her head to meet his eyes. "So are you... in love with her, then?"

Alistair forced himself to meet her gaze. "They say you always care about your first love, and she will always be special to me. But she is not my wife, Lyrina. You are."

"Yes, about that," she said, her tone dry. "Why _did_ you marry me? You obviously care nothing for me, though I had hoped you did. You couldhave just as easily married her. The nobles all would have approved the match, what with her precious Cousland blood. Has it all been a joke, then? Some elaborate attempt to make a fool of me? Is everyone laughing behind my back?"

Alistair did stand then, and he went over to her. He tried to take her hand as he sat next to her, but Lyrina pulled away from him. "You know I... care about you, Lyrina." He winced a little as he said it. Why couldn't he just tell her he loved her? That's what she wanted, what she needed to hear. "And maybe I could have married her, but..." He paused, trying to decide how to word things.

The pause must have been too long, though, and Lyrina gave him an angry look. "Stop trying to come up with excuses. Just tell me the truth. You owe me that much, don't you think?"

With a nod, Alistair replied. "Yes, I do." He took a deep breath. "I did ask her to marry me, but she turned me down. Jessimyn never wanted to be queen, and she felt we couldn't fulfill our duties to the Grey Wardens if neither of us were able to serve them. But not only that, we knew we would likely never be able to produce an heir. You know how hard it's been for us. With two Grey Wardens..."

Lyrina made a noise, almost like a sob, and she looked away. "So you just needed someone to breed for you," she said, her voice hoarse.

"No, Lyrina," he protested and reached for her hand again. This time she didn't pull away, and he moved a little closer. "I needed a wife. I needed you. You are a wonderful queen, a wonderful wife. I never..." He sighed. "I've never meant for my actions to hurt you."

She rounded on him, her eyes a little red. "You sleep with someone else behind my back, and you don't think that will hurt me? You pine after a woman who wouldn't give up her _duties_ to the Grey Wardens to be with you." She spoke with such disdain, but Alistair didn't interrupt. "And you hold onto keepsakes of her, denying yourself the chance to experience a _real _relationship."

"The letters..." Alistair began, but Lyrina spoke over him.

"Not just letters, Alistair. I'm not as stupid as you think I am." She pulled out the miniature from where she'd had it hidden next to her leg. "What about this? Why would any decent married man hold onto something like this? What you had with her wasn't even real, but you cling to it, and I can't understand why."

Alistair just looked at her, and Lyrina seemed to take that as encouragement. Her voice increased in intensity as she spoke. "You only think you loved her because of what you went through. You loved her because she was there, because you both experienced traumatic things."

He just shook his head and turned away, but Lyrina continued. "Think about it, Alistair. What if it had been someone else there with you? What if a different Grey Warden had survived with you instead of her? If it had been another woman, you'd just as likely think you loved her instead. Or... what if it had been me?" He raised his eyebrows, looking at her again. "Hear me out, Alistair. Let's just say I'd been a Grey Warden, I was the one who was with you, I was the one who went through all the things you did. Then maybe you'd love me instead of her. But just as easily, you could have ended up married to her, the daughter of a Teyrn as I am. Our roles could have been reversed, as your feelings could have been."

Her train of thought was confusing to Alistair, and he ran his hands through his hair. "So... what you're saying is that love is just a matter of proximity? I'll just fall in love with whatever woman happens to be closest?" He couldn't keep all of the scorn he felt from coloring his words.

Lyrina sighed softly. "No, Alistair. I'm... what I'm trying to say is that you fell in love with someone, and you think that means you can never feel anything for anyone else, ever again. I'm saying that, if you would actually give me a chance, you could do more than just _care _about me. You could love me. Because Alistair... I love you. How sad is it, that in the five years of our marriage, we've never used that word with each other. But I do, I love you, and I know you could love me, too, if you just gave me that chance."

Alistair touched her face. "That's why she left, you know," he said. "She agreed with what you just said. Jessimyn never wanted to come between us, she..."

Lyrina pressed her fingers to his lips. "I don't want to talk about her anymore," she said. "I'd just as soon not have to hear her name, if at all possible. I just... I want to know if you're willing to... try. With me."

Alistair wrapped his hand around her fingers and kissed them lightly. "I am," he said. "Of course I am." He wished he could have said more, but he wasn't ready for it, not yet.

Lyrina smiled a little at him. "Good. That's all I ask. As long as she stays away, as long as you focus on us instead of what you had in the past, we might be able to turn this into a _real_ marriage. And maybe... maybe I can help a little with that." A faint blush crept up into her cheeks. "I mean... you know my parents' marriage was arranged, as ours was. My father told me once that he didn't fully fall in love with my mother until she... became pregnant with my oldest brother." She didn't quite meet his eyes as she spoke.

"Wait..." Alistair peered at her. "Are you... are you saying..."

"I've missed two of my monthly courses now," Lyrina said softly. "I was going to wait to tell you after Teagan and his wife were gone, but..." Whatever else she had planned on saying was cut off as he pulled her into a tight embrace, which quickly turned into something more. As Alistair made love to his wife, the letters scattered to the floor, but even if he had noticed, he likely wouldn't have cared.


	51. Jessimyn Chapter 51

The group slowly crept forward toward the campfire, Jandin in the lead. The figure near the fire stood, and as the hood of the cloak was pushed back, Jessimyn saw it was a woman. She was very petite, with wavy blonde hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her large, brown eyes sat above a perfectly-shaped nose and full, red lips. In fact, she was probably the most beautiful woman Jessimyn had ever seen. But what was she doing out there, apparently all alone? The tracks they had followed surely couldn't belong to anyone else, could they? The woman took a step forward, gesturing to the fire.

"Please, join me. Warm yourselves by my fire." The woman gave them all a smile.

Jessimyn looked at the others and scowled. The men were all staring at her, and Joffey was blatantly gaping at her, his mouth hanging half-open. Apparently they had all lost higher brain function, and it was up to her to do the talking. "We thank you, my lady. But you are very trusting of strangers, for someone alone in a dangerous area."

The woman's smile widened, and she pushed the cloak back from her shoulders, revealing a perfectly-shaped body. Did someone near her actually let out a whimper? Jessimyn crossed her arms over her chest. She had never been the self-conscious type, but she suddenly felt very insignificant, standing there dirty and sweaty. How did the woman manage to look like she was ready for a ball, out in the middle of nowhere?

"Well, surely you don't mean me harm," said the woman, her innocent-looking eyes going wide.

Jandin and Joffey talked over one another, trying to reassure her they did not. "No," said Jessimyn, cutting them off. "We mean you no harm, but this _is _a dangerous area to be. We are Grey Wardens, following the trail of... darkspawn. There was a recent darkspawn attack on some farmhouses nearby." Jessimyn watched her closely for any sort of reaction.

The woman clapped her hands together. "Grey Wardens! Wonderful. See, I knew you were trustworthy." She favored them all again with another smile. "I am Lylimet. I believe I saw this farmhouse you mentioned, a couple days back. I had hoped the good people living there might offer me supplies and a place to stay for the night, but the homes were empty, so I moved on."

"But what are you doing all the way out here, by yourself?" Jessimyn asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"What is your name?"

"Jess."

Lylimet nodded. "Well, Jess, I'm sure you're aware that appearances can be deceiving. I may look like I'm incapable of taking care of myself, but that is not the case. My reasons for being here are my own, but I assure you, I am not frightened to be alone. But since you are all here, I could certainly use the company. Please, set up your tents. There is plenty of room in the clearing, and you may as well share my fire. I don't have enough food to go around, but I'm sure you have enough of your own."

Jessimyn wanted to ask more questions, but she didn't want to make Lylimet suspicious or frightened, so she decided to wait. As there was still a little light left, they all quickly set up their tents, and then they began preparing food for the evening. Normally they fought over who would have to do it, but that night, Jandin, Joffey, and Zevran seemed to be falling over themselves to be the one to stand next to Lylimet at the fire. Even Kyran seemed to want to be nearer to the woman. Jessimyn only approached her to ask a question.

"Is there fresh water nearby?" She asked.

Lylimet nodded, though she didn't quite fully take her attention away from her admirers. "There's a small stream that way," she said, pointing off into the trees, opposite the direction from whence they had come.

Jessimyn just nodded and went back to her tent. She wanted to freshen up a little and wash some of her dirty things. She didn't want to admit to herself that it bothered her a little to see Zevran flirting so shamelessly with the woman. No, it was still early enough, dinner wouldn't be ready for a while, so she may as well take the time to wash, since she had it. That was all. She quickly collected her things and headed off into the woods. She had only gone a little ways into the trees when she heard a noise behind her. A glance over her shoulder showed Berton following behind her, his own arms full of things to wash. After a moment's hesitation, Jessimyn decided to wait for him to catch up to her.

Once he reached her, they began walking toward the stream, neither of them speaking. Jessimyn wondered if she would have felt as awkward around him if he hadn't made his startling revelation to her about his past. Probably, but perhaps for a different reason. She didn't want to like him, and she still didn't, but she found she didn't quite despise him as she had. That was a little distressing. She found she _wanted _to despise him. When they got to the stream, Jessimyn realized Lylimet hadn't been exaggerating. It was very small, a winding path of water that she could have easily jumped across. Well, it wasn't like she would have been able to bathe with Berton there with her, so it was just as well.

Jessimyn set her things on the ground, then leaned forward to splash water on her face. It was strangely a little warmer than she would have expected. Not the usual, ice-cold temperature she'd grown accustomed to. Pity it wasn't deep enough for a bath. "You didn't feel the desire to... help with dinner like the rest of our party?" Jessimyn asked.

Berton laughed from where he sat next to her, rubbing a bar of soap into a tunic. "Now, now, kitten. Allow them to fantasize about a different woman for a change."

Jessimyn shook her head, reaching for her own things. She removed her gauntlets and rolled the sleeves of her tunic up before she began washing a pair of leggings. "That's hardly my worry. But really, you'd think they'd never seen a woman before in their lives."

"Well, probably not a woman like _that_," Berton said, and Jessimyn glanced over to see him grinning at her.

"And yet," she said with a smirk. "You seem strangely immune to her... charms."

His laugh deepened. "Not immune," he assured her. "I can certainly appreciate a beautiful woman when I see one. But I am not so young as the rest of our party. I can admire and still keep my head about me. I like a pretty face and nice breasts as much as the next man, but I like being able to put on clean clothes in the morning even more. Besides," he added with a grin. "I can get _all_ of those things here with you."

Jessimyn snorted and rolled her eyes. "Well, aren't you the lucky one," she said sarcastically.

Berton made no response, and they continued washing their things in silence. Jessimyn finished first, and she laid her things across the branch of a tree next to the stream. Then she removed her boots and rolled her leggings up past her knees to wash her feet. She scooted towards the water and dipped her feet in, pleased that the water was warm enough that they didn't immediately go numb.

"And see," Berton said. "I get legs, too. The others don't know what they're missing."

Jessimyn looked over at him, and that grin was on his face again. She bit back a retort and instead lifted one of her legs out of the water, wiggling her toes at him. "And feet, too. Must be your lucky day." She lowered her foot back into the water and leaned back on her elbows, enjoying the feel of the water.

"So, how much do you trust her," Berton asked as he finished his own washing and moved to sit next to her.

Jessimyn glanced over at him, then out into the trees. "Not much," she admitted. "You?"

"Probably not at all," he said. "What's a woman like that doing out here on her own? She has to be a mage, to be able to protect herself. She admitted she was at the farmhouses. Knew enough about them to prove she really was. What's the likelihood she just _happened _to pass by in the time between when the darkspawn attacked and when we arrived? Not very, I'd say. I want to stay near her, at least for a day, see if we can figure out why the darkspawn are following her. Maybe she really is an apostate, afraid we'll turn her over to the templars, so she's too scared to tell us what's really going on... assuming she even knows."

"Well, I doubt the others will argue with staying here for another day. I agree, though. We need to find out what she knows." Jessimyn felt the brush of something against her arm and looked over to see Berton touching the ends of her hair, which fell unbound against her back. When he saw her looking at him, he just smiled. Jessimyn ran a hand along the back of her neck, then drew her hair away from him to lie across the opposite shoulder.

Berton laughed. "Well, you didn't punch me or try to hit me with one of your weapons. I'd say that's progress." Jessimyn just shook her head and stood up. As she began gathering her things, Berton said, "Are you sure you don't want to clean up a little more. I could help you wash your hair."

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" She asked.

With a grin, Berton said, "Why should I stop, kitten? Caution is for young men and cowards. I am neither of those things."

"Too true," Jessimyn agreed. "I'd describe you more as old and foolhardy."

Berton let out a booming laugh and gave her a mock bow. "After you, my lady," he said with a grin, and they made their way back to the camp.

When they got back, the smell of cooking meat met their noses, and Jessimyn realized how hungry she was. Lylimet sat near the fire, flanked by Jandin and Joffey. Zevran was talking quietly with Kyran, near Jessimyn's tent, but when he saw them returning, he came towards them. Berton moved towards his own tent without a word.

"Do you really think it wise to go off alone with him?" Zevran demanded as he followed her back to her tent. He ducked inside after her and stood by the entrance as she began hanging up her things to dry.

"If you worry for my safety, Zev, you needn't bother. I can take care of myself, as you are fully aware. Unless, perhaps, you worry about me being alone with him for a different reason..."

"Yes," said Zevran in mock seriousness. He moved towards her quickly, putting his arms around her waist. "I fear that you will fall madly in love with our hulking bear of a leader, and you will leave me to die in a cold bed of a broken heart."

Jessimyn chuckled and pushed him away. "Your heart is made of steel, Zev. I don't think it's possible for it to break. Besides, you seem to have found yourself a suitable replacement for your cold bed," she said with a smile.

A blank look passed across his face before Zevran grinned widely at her. "Who, Lylimet? Well, if she offered her warmth to me, I certainly wouldn't turn it down. Or maybe you meant Kyran? I wouldn't turn him down, either."

Jessimyn laughed softly and pushed past him to exit the tent. Kyran was still standing nearby, and his cheeks looked a little red. She wondered how much of their conversation he'd heard. And that was why she didn't like having conversations in tents. Too easy to forget there were people standing nearby. She walked over to Kyran.

"So," she said. "Do you think she's our mage?"

"Oh, uh..." Kyran cleared his throat, and he seemed to be struggling not to look at Zevran as he spoke. "I don't know. It's possible. I don't feel any remnants of magic around here, but that only means that a spell hasn't been cast here. But if she is, and she's trying to hide it, we'll probably never find out." He gestured to his robes. "I am quite obviously a mage, so she wouldn't do anything in front of me."

Berton walked over to them and repeated Jessimyn's question, to which Kyran repeated his answer. "Well," said Berton. "We'll just have to pay close attention. Hopefully she gives something away. Now, let's eat."

The group gathered around the fire. Berton sat to one side of Jessimyn, while Zevran sat at her other side, across the fire from Lylimet, who turned her attention from her admirers to them. "So," she said. "Grey Wardens. All of you? How exciting. I've never met one, let alone six. And Jessimyn, it must be rare, to be a woman in the Grey Wardens. So... which of you is the leader?" Jessimyn noticed Lylimet was looking at her as she asked, but then she turned to Berton. "It must be you. You look like the leader type." Berton inclined his head, and she continued. "And you're hunting darkspawn? Do you think there really are any around here?"

"They did attack the farmhouses, as we said," said Berton. "There have been other attacks in the area. All over the south of Ferelden, really."

"Oh?" She said, straightening a little. "Fascinating. But why such a small party, to investigate such things?"

Berton looked at her. "Most normal people would be frightened to hear of such things," he said.

Lylimet laughed. "Well, I never claimed to be a normal person, did I? But then, I've never seen any of these darkspawn, so maybe I'm just overconfident. At least, if they _are _nearby, I have six brave Grey Wardens to protect me."

"Five," said Zevran. When Lylimet gave him a startled look, he elaborated. "I'm not a Grey Warden. The rest are, but not me." He grinned. "They just keep me around for my looks."

Lylimet gave him a coy smile. "Oh, I could believe that, a handsome elf like you."

Joffey frowned at that. "You know," he said, a little too hurriedly. "We actually found you because _I_ followed your trail from the farmhouses to here. We thought maybe you'd been there, that you might have seen the attack, but I guess we were wrong."

Jessimyn grimaced and glanced over at Berton, who was making the same expression. The fool Joffey would give everything away if they weren't careful. She would likely be extra cautious around them now, knowing that they had followed her to her camp.

"Ooh, you're a tracker?" Lylimet asked. "That must be very difficult. I had someone try to explain it to me once, but I look at the ground and all I see is dirt."

Joffey beamed at her, but Jessimyn heard Berton mutter under his breath, "Simpering fool." She wasn't sure if she was talking about Joffey or Lylimet. She pressed her lips together, trying not to smile.

They finished their meal, and Berton assigned watches. He would take first, followed by Jessimyn, then Joffey, with Jandin taking last. He ordered everyone to get some sleep, and Jessimyn was all to eager to comply. After the meal, she suddenly felt very weary, and the thought of sleep seemed like the best thing in the world. However, it was like her head barely hit her pillow before she was being awakened.

"Kitten," came Berton's voice softly.

She opened her eyes to see his head peeking through the flap of her tent. "I'm up," she said sleepily, and she rose to begin pulling on her armor. Berton moved away, and Jessimyn dressed quickly. He was standing near the fire, poking at it, as she exited her tent. The look he gave her was not one she understood, but he just nodded to her and moved towards the tents.

"Uh, Berton..." she called after him.

He turned to look at her, his eyes just a little too wide. "Yes, kitten?"

"You know very well that's my tent. Yours is over there," she said, pointing to a tent he was clearly not walking towards.

Berton grinned at her. "Oh, of course. My mistake."

Jessimyn rolled her eyes as he made his way towards his own tent. As she watched him duck inside, she knew she could understand why Zevran was worried for her safety. Berton came on strong. He talked big, but she realized he was just that, talk. Of course, she couldn't fully explain that to Zevran without betraying Berton's confidence, and she wasn't ready to do that. Just as she'd never been able to fully explain to Alistair why she trusted Zevran.

Her watch went by uneventfully, as they always hope they will, and Jessimyn went to awaken Joffey. Once he was up, she went back to her own tent, changed back into her nightgown, and fell asleep almost immediately. Once again, it seemed like she'd only just fallen asleep when she was awakened again, but this time was not quite so gentle as the last. She heard shouts, and it took only a moment before she felt that familiar tingle to let her know there were darkspawn nearby.

Jessimyn jumped up, threw on her armor and grabbed her weapons as she exited the tent. The darkspawn were upon them, and she barely had time to bring up her sword to block an axe thrown at her head. The shock of the blow traveled up her arm, and she ducked to the ground as the hurlock shifted its momentum to swing at her again. She slashed her dagger across its legs, stabbing upwards with her sword to impale the creature through its stomach. As it fell to the ground, she drew her dagger across its throat.

As she stood up, she surveyed the fighting. Her eyes fell on Kyran, who had two genlocks in front of him. She rushed to him, drawing their attention away from the mage. With their focus on Jessimyn, she and Kyran managed to take them out quickly. As the darkspawn fell to the ground, they looked around to see the fighting was done. Zevran moved over to the quickly, looking them both over. He touched the gash across Kyran's arm, and the mage winced. "It's fine," he said quickly. "I'll take care of it once I make sure no one is hurt worse."

"Where's Joffey?" Berton asked, as they came together.

"And Lylimet," Jandin added.

"Wait," said Jessimyn, a frown growing on her face. "Where's her tent?" The others looked at her, then around them. Jessimyn pointed, a feeling of dread growing in her stomach. "It was set up there, but now it's gone. Who was on watch?"

"I was," said Jandin. "But... I... didn't notice it was gone when Joffey woke me up for my watch."

"It was still there when I was on watch," said Jessimyn. "So it disappeared while Joffey..." She looked over at his tent. "Maker," she said and hurried over to it, the others close behind. She threw back the flap of the tent and let out a gasp.

Joffey was lying on top of his bedroll, completely nude. His throat had been slit, a very deep cut, and there was a large pool of blood around his head. Jessimyn took a quick step back, and the others got a look inside the tent.

"Andraste's tits," Berton swore. "The witch killed him and escaped while we were distracted." He rounded on Jandin. "How did you not hear this happening? How did you not see her moving around?"

Jandin began stuttering, but Zevran stepped in. "Likely," he said. "She was up while Joffey was on watch. She must have given him a reason for taking down her tent, and she was probably waiting for him inside his when he went to wake Jandin."

"But..." Kyran swallowed, his face pale. "Why kill him? Why Joffey? What was the point? Maker..."

Berton's eyes widened a little, and he ducked inside the tent. The others stood at the entrance, watching as he grabbed Joffey's pack and dragged it outside. He upended it onto the ground and shifted through his things. "Maker damn it," he grumbled and looked up, his eyes meeting Jessimyn's. "The maps. Joffey was our tracker, he had our maps. They're gone."


	52. Zevran Chapter 52

Everyone stood there in silence, at the entrance to Joffey's tent, where the man lay with his neck cut open. It seemed so extreme, so unnecessary to Zevran. Clearly the woman had seduced him in order to steal the maps, but had she really needed to kill him? And where did the darkspawn come into play. Everything seemed wrong about it all, but Zevran couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"...but," Jandin was saying. "The maps aren't necessary to our cause, right? I mean, we've already checked out all the places we needed to. And we could reconstruct them from the information we still have back in Amaranthine..."

"Yes," Berton answered. "But the point isn't whether or not _we_ need them. The question is why Lylimet needed them. Why did she kill to get them?"

"Does no one care that Joffey is dead?!" Kyran's voice was strained, and everyone turned to look at him. "He's... he was our brother, and we're just going to act like he's not... like he isn't..."

Jandin's face paled a little as he looked away, and Berton and Jessimyn exchanged a look that Zevran didn't like. Why were the two of them suddenly friends, or at least friendly? Zevran took a step closer to Kyran and laid a hand on the mage's arm. "We all care," he said soothingly. "But we need to determine why she killed him. We need to figure out what she wants with the maps. I know if it was me, lying there like that, I'd want the rest of you to do everything you could to find out why I had to die."

If anything, Kyran looked even more agitated at that, and Zevran patted his arm. "We'll build him a proper pyre, though. He will go to his rest as he deserves."

"But... she can't be more than a few hours ahead of us," Jandin protested. "There's still five of us, and only one of her. Surely we could catch her, if we leave right now."

"We can't just leave Joffey like that," Kyran demanded.

"But she's proven to us she's the mage we're looking for. We can't let her get away..." Jandin turned to everyone else, looking for support.

Zevran shook his head. "No, I don't think she's proven she's _not_ the mage we're looking for." The others looked at him, and he continued. "I assume she didn't actually use any magic, or Kyran would have mentioned it?" The mage nodded. "Not that that means she isn't a mage, of course, but she can't be the one we're looking for. For one, she stole the maps. The only things those maps tell anyone is where the previous attacks occurred. If it had been her who was attacked, she wouldn't need that information. Maybe she's chasing the same thing the darkspawn are. The same thing we are, even."

"It almost seems like she was working with the darkspawn," said Jessimyn. "It's just too much of a coincidence that they attacked just in time to help hasten her escape from us."

"But darkspawn don't ally with humans," Berton pointed out.

Jessimyn sighed softly. "I am aware of that. But there's something wrong about all of this. There's something wrong about _her_, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. I do know, though, that I don't want to go hurrying after her, especially in the dark, until we have a better idea of why she..." Her eyes went to the open tent. "...why she killed Joffey."

The others nodded their ascent, though Jandin didn't seem too pleased about the delay. Since it was still dark out, and it was obvious no one was going to try to get any more sleep, they began preparing a pyre. Jandin, Zevran, and Berton went to go collect wood while Kyran and Jessimyn prepared Joffey's body and began constructing the pyre. They worked quickly, and it was shortly after sunrise when it was ready. Berton helped Kyran lay the body gently atop the pyre, after which Kyran went to stand near Jessimyn. Zevran noticed the mage clutching her hand, and it seemed he was doing everything he could to keep his emotions under control. Zevran went over and stood next to Kyran, who began to speak.

"He was our brother," Kyran said, his voice soft at first. "He was a Grey Warden, and he gave his life serving the Grey Wardens, but he didn't deserve to die this way."

"Joffey died as all Grey Wardens die," Berton said in answer. "Before his time, but in service to a greater good, so that others may live and know peace. We honor his life not by mourning him, but by continuing on our work, until the day comes that we, too, are sacrifice to our duty." His voice took on a somber tone as he said, "Know that his sacrifice will not be forgotten."

"And one day," Jessimyn said softly in response, as if reciting something. "We will join him."

Zevran didn't understand the reference, but he couldn't ask, as Kyran lifted a hand, and the pyre roared to life. Everyone stood in silence for a while, and then one by one, they began to drift away, to begin packing up their things. As Zevran began tearing down his tent, he noticed Kyran still stood, staring at the flames, which had started to die down a little. When the elf finished with his things, he went over to pack up Kyran's tent. Jessimyn helped him, and Kyran had joined them shortly before they finished.

Once everyone had finished packing up, they came back together. "Jandin and I have looked around, and we've found what looks like Lylimet's tracks, near where Joffey's tent was. They lead off into the woods."

"And from which direction did the darkspawn come?" Jessimyn asked.

"That way," said Jandin as he pointed in a different direction. "There were only seven genlocks and two hurlocks. Not a large group at all. How did they just happen to be in the area, just happen to fall upon us?..."

"Maybe Jess is right," Zevran said. "Maybe it wasn't a coincidence."

"Or maybe," Jandin countered. "Maybe this _is_ our mage, and the darkspawn came for her, and she ran away when she saw them coming."

Zevran shook his head. "Doubtful. First, how would she have known the darkspawn were coming before the rest of you sensed them? Even had she been awake, she could not have known they were coming before you did. She even had her tent torn down, so either she was forewarned and left the rest of us to our fate, or she was somehow in league with them. Besides, discounting all of that, even if she was just looking after herself and running away from the darkspawn, it still doesn't explain Joffey." He paused, his voice more somber. "It doesn't explain why she killed him, doesn't explain why she stole the maps."

"But what if..." Jandin frowned. "Hear me out. What if it wasn't Lylimet who killed him? What if... she heard something, or saw something, and she ran. What if someone was in camp who frightened her away, someone who then killed Joffey and stole the maps."

"Someone you didn't notice while you were on watch?" Berton asked, his voice a little harsh.

Jandin tried not to wince and almost succeeded. "Well... not if they used the darkspawn attack as a distraction."

Kyran's voice was soft as he interjected. "No, Joffey knew the person who killed him. She slit his throat while he was... naked. He had no other wounds on his body. He didn't try to defend himself. And he... it looked like he... like they..." He gave Jessimyn a helpless look.

"It looked like he'd had sex and didn't have time to clean up before he was killed," she finished for him.

Kyran looked down at the ground, his cheeks turning a little pink, and Jandin shifted uncomfortably. "So..." Jandin cleared his throat before continuing. "Then we go after her. Whether she's the mage or not, whether she killed him or not, we need to find her."

"And maybe she hopes to lead us into another trap," Zevran said. "How easy to find were those tracks of hers? The ones leading from the farmhouses were well-hidden, and she didn't know we were following her then. When she left here, she had to know we would be coming after her... assuming we survived the darkspawn attack."

Jandin frowned, glancing at Berton. "They... were pretty clear, even in the dark. But even so, we have to follow her. We can't just... let her get away with this."

"It's light enough now," said Berton. "We'll check the campsite again, to see if there are any other tracks leading in or out. But whether it's a trap or not, we go after her. What other choice do we have? We could backtrack to the farmhouses, but there's nothing further to find there. Unless anyone has a better suggestion."

Zevran noticed Berton eying him, and he opened his mouth to make a jest when he noticed the stricken look on Kyran's face. Instead, he just nodded, and they all fanned out around the campsite to continue looking for tracks. Zevran waited a moment, until everyone was spread out away from everyone else, and he went over to Jessimyn.

"Do you really think this is wise?" He whispered to her. "She obviously wants us to follow her, and we're giving her exactly what she wants. I tend to dislike doing what what the enemy wants us to do."

Jessimyn shrugged at him. "But Berton's right, what else can we do? We can't just turn around and go home, nor can we just go back to Lothering and hope to hear of another attack. We're not just going to charge in blind into... whatever she may have waiting for us."

Zevran frowned at her. "Why is Berton suddenly so trustworthy? I'm not sure he has earned that, not after what he's done." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Why are you smiling at me?"

Jessimyn shook her head, trying to cover her smile. "You just remind me so much of Alistair right now. He used to say the exact same things about you, years ago. You _were _trying to kill me when we first met, or had you forgotten?"

Zevran grimaced. "Either you're comparing me to Alistair, or you're comparing me to Berton. I'm not sure which I find the most reprehensible."

Jessimyn patted him on the arm. "There are worse things than to be compared to our king."

"If you're the one doing the comparing... perhaps," he said.

Jessimyn looked down. "Berton, on the other hand... Well, come on. We're supposed to be looking around for... something. I've never been any good at tracking, though. I keep thinking I've found something, only to discover I'm looking at my own footprints."

She turned and left, and Zevran watched her go, a little smile on his face. He did always love to watch her walk away, as long as he knew she wasn't going very far. But then he noticed Berton, watching Zevran watch Jessimyn. The elf's smile turned into a grin, which Berton returned before he went over to Jessimyn's side to speak softly to her. That bothered Zevran a lot more than he would have cared to admit, but luckily he had other things to focus on just then.

It was only a little while later when Berton called them all back together. No one had found any further tracks, other than their own, the darkspawn, and Lylimet's. Even if they were able to track where the darkspawn had come from, they wouldn't be able to question any of them, so that only left following the tracks Lylimet had left behind.

"We all need to look at this like it's a trap," Berton stated. "We'll go slowly. I want Jandin and Zevran in the lead. Jandin, you'll be watching the tracks to make sure we don't lose the trail, and Zevran, I want you on the lookout for any traps that may be set in our path. Kyran, you'll be in the middle where we can surround you for protection, if needed, but you're close enough to all of us, should any of us need healing. Kitten and I will bring up the rear, to make sure we're not being followed, in case Lylimet or anyone else has doubled back around."

Zevran didn't like the arrangement, but he knew arguing would get him nowhere. Berton's reasoning was sound, although Zevran knew Jessimyn was just as good at finding traps as he was. Of course, if she was up front, that would have put Zevran in back with Berton, so perhaps this was for the best. Everyone else just nodded, and they went to gather their things so they could set out. He couldn't help wondering, though, as they set out, if they would regret pursuing Lylimet as much as Joffey did.


	53. Jessimyn Chapter 53

The pace they set while following Lylimet's tracks was excruciatingly slow, and Jessimyn felt overwhelmed by impatience before it was even midday. She was not used to being in the back of the group, not used to being unable to affect the pace. She managed to stay alert, as alert as the others, but it was difficult not to push forward. At least she knew she could trust Zevran to keep his eyes open for any traps, but she wanted to be up there with him, not stuck in the back of the group with... Berton.

Jessimyn realized Berton was staying very quiet. There was no need for absolute silence, and she could hear Jandin and Zevran talking quietly ahead. He was obviously troubled, and Jessimyn suddenly felt guilty that she wasn't quite so troubled by Joffey's death. At least, that's what she assumed was bothering Berton. It wasn't as if she didn't care, but they certainly hadn't been close. And what sort of man decides to sleep with someone he just met, especially when they knew she might be dangerous? Well, Jessimyn couldn't _exactly_ fault him for that. She'd had her share of regrettable couplings, after all, though none had left her dead. And while she didn't think Joffey and Berton had been close, either, she knew it was difficult for a leader to lose someone.

"It's not your fault, you know," she said softly, and Berton turned to look at her.

"There are many things that are my fault, and many things that aren't, so I suppose I can neither agree nor disagree unless you're more specific." He turned to glance out over the woods around them.

Jessimyn sighed. Was she really surprised that he was going to make her work to comfort him? No, not really. "Joffey," she said. "It's not your fault he's dead."

Berton grunted. "It is always the fault of the leader when someone dies. If he was unprepared for a situation, it was because I didn't ready him for it."

"His head was turned by a pretty, albeit dangerous, woman. I'm not sure preparation and logic would have helped him any."

Berton chuckled softly. "Beautiful, not pretty. Pretty he may have been able to withstand." He sighed harshly. "Still. I left him alone with her. I underestimated her as much as he did. We all did. It was just that Joffey was the unlucky one to invite her back to his tent."

Jessimyn didn't know what to say to that, so she left it. After all, Berton was right. It _could_ have just as easily been someone else who died. What if it had been Zevran who Lylimet had decided to spend the night with? While Jessimyn would like to believe Zevran would have been able to protect himself better... she gave her head a little shake. That was not something she wanted to think about. Jessimyn noticed Berton eying her, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Did you ever lose anyone?" He asked. "One of your... followers, I mean?"

"My mabari," she said softly.

"Yours personally? Or was it one that fought with you but was bonded to someone else?" Berton alternated his attention between Jessimyn and their surroundings.

"She was mine," Jessimyn said. "Her name was Vixen. She was a present for my twelfth birthday, and she fled Highever with me when... when I was recruited into the Grey Wardens. She was with me until the end of the Blight, but in that final battle... I had to leave her behind, as we made our way up to the tower, where we battled the Archdemon. After the fighting was over, and we came back down, she... we found her body."

"Ah," said Berton. "So it was a loss not only of one of your soldiers, but it was personal as well. I am sorry."

Jessimyn appreciated that, that he didn't just treat it like the death of a favorite pet. After all, Vixen had saved her life more than once, and she had been as much of a fighter as Sten or Oghren or even Alistair. Berton made a small noise, and Jessimyn looked over at him to see a somewhat startled look on his face.

"You said..." He shook his head. "The mabari was a present? For your twelfth birthday?"

Jessimyn nodded.

"And... how long do mabari normally live?"

A little flash of anger went through her. "She was getting up there in years, but she still had a number left, and she was still as capable as when she was only a few years..."

Berton shook his head quickly, and he put a hand on her arm to quiet her. "No, no. I didn't mean it that way." He gave a little smile. "I would never imply that an older soldier is of less worth than a younger one. It's just... Maker, how young are you?"

Jessimyn blinked, then smiled a little at him. "Apparently younger than you thought. Why? How old did you think I was?"

With another shake of his head, Berton replied, "Oh, no. I know better than to answer that question when a woman asks it."

"Especially when you think I look older than I really am, I'm sure." She grinned. "I was nearly twenty when I became a Grey Warden. I'm twenty-six now."

"...still a baby," Berton muttered under his breath, taking in another sweeping glance of the woods. "Maker, kitten. I could be your father."

"You're not so old as that," Jessimyn said, trying not to smile. "My father was much older than you are now, I'm sure."

"Maybe so, but I _could_ be. I was already married before you were even born."

She gave up trying not to smile and grinned openly at him. "Are you so ashamed, then? That I've accomplished so much in my short life, while you've done relatively little with yours?"

Berton snorted loudly, and Kyran turned around briefly to look at them. "No, kitten," Berton said softly, his voice so deep it rumbled. "Rather, I feel a little ashamed at all of the things I've thought about doing with you... doing _to_ you... seeing as how you're barely more than a child. I'm only a _little_ ashamed, though."

Jessimyn turned her head away from him. "I'm hardly a child," she began, then cut herself off. What was she trying to do? Encourage him? "Besides, that is a terribly inappropriate thing to say."

He laughed, a rumbling sound that seemed to slide across her skin. "Inappropriate for what sort of situation? Inappropriate to say if I were going to meet your father, perhaps, considering we'd be of an age, but when it's just you and me..." She realized his hand was still on her arm, and she took a step away from him.

"Well, you needn't have any worries about meeting my father, of that I can assure you."

"Why?" Berton smiled at her. "You don't think he'd like me?"

Jessimyn just looked at him for a moment. She had always assumed that everyone was aware of her history. "Because he's dead, Berton."

"Ah," he said, and Jessimyn found herself wishing he looked more embarrassed by his words. "That would make a meeting difficult, then. I suppose I should have known that, though. If your brother's a teyrn, it would have to mean your father was no longer with you." Jessimyn turned her head away, no longer wishing to continue the conversation. Berton, however, seemed to have other desires. "I guess you'll just have to introduce me to your brother sometime, then."

"Well, I know _he_ wouldn't like you," she said, no longer trying to be nice or comforting.

"Why?" Berton asked, and Jessimyn could hear the smile in his voice even though she was looking away from him. "Too old? Or something else?"

It was a ridiculous question. Why should he even care what her brother would think of him? They would likely never meet, and even if they did, Fergus had never cared to know any of the other Grey Wardens. Well, if Berton was going to ask blunt questions, she would give him a blunt response. "No," she replied. "Because you're too common."

But instead of offending or angering Berton as Jessimyn half-hoped it would, if just so that he would leave her alone, he let out another laugh, causing Kyran to again turn around and glance at them. "Oh, that. Well that I can't argue with. You just seem so accepting of commoners that I assumed your family was the same. But as nobles go, I'm sure you're probably more of the exception than the rule. And so what does your noble brother think of you being a Grey Warden, then? I can't imagine it's what he hoped you'd end up to be?"

"No, he hoped I would be queen," Jessimyn said before she even realized what she was saying. At least she was still turned away from Berton, so that he couldn't see the shocked look on her face. How had she managed to just let that slip? Those words led down a path she wouldn't venture, but she'd just opened it up for him, if he took it.

Berton laughed again, and once Jessimyn's face was composed, she risked a glance at him. "Well," he said. "I guess everyone wants something better for themselves. Even you nobles."

Jessimyn was all too happy to let the conversation rest there. They walked along in silence again, when Berton suddenly reached out and touched her arm. Jessimyn instinctively went to pull away from him, but his fingers closed around her, and he whispered softly. "When I let go, you're going to stop and make as if to adjust a buckle on your boot. I keep thinking I'm catching movement behind us, but when I actually go to look, there's nothing there."

Jessimyn just gave a little nod, and he released her arm. Jessimyn stopped and reached down, her fingers going to her boots. Jandin, Joffey, and Kyran kept on, but they weren't moving quickly enough to get too far ahead. Jessimyn glanced behind them quickly, and after just a moment she caught a quick flash of movement. She straightened. "Something's there, yes. But I don't think it's a person. Looks more like an animal."

"One that's stalking us?" Berton asked without turning around. He touched her arm again, and they began walking slowly after the others. "Are you certain?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessimyn caught more movement, and she stopped and turned to look, not caring if she was seen. A ways off, a wolf stepped out of the brush. She met its eyes, and the wolf let out a low growl. "Don't look it in the eye," Berton hissed, and Jessimyn looked down so that she could still see it without looking right at it. The wolf let out a soft yip and went running back the way it had come, disappearing into the woods behind them.

"Strange," said Berton, watching the animal disappear. "Where's the rest of the pack? Not that I'm upset there was only one, but still..." He shrugged, then gestured to the rest of the group moving off into the trees ahead of them. "Come on, let's catch up. Unless you'd rather take advantage of this alone time to..."

Jessimyn didn't even let him finish his comment as she hurried after the others, and Berton quickly followed, so that he was once again walking at her side. "One of these days," he said with a grin. "You'll surprise me and agree to one of my suggestions."

"Actually," Jessimyn responded. "I was hoping that, one of these days, you'd take the hint and stop asking."

"Not a chance," he said, his voice once again that low rumble.

"Lecherous old man," Jessimyn muttered under her breath, and Berton's laugh seemed to bounce off the trees around them.


	54. Jessimyn Chapter 54

The next couple weeks seemed to flow together. Sometimes the trail Lylimet had left behind was clear, and they could move quickly, but other times they were stopped for hours while Jandin tried to find it again. There were even a few times when they had to backtrack, and they'd spent all of one day at a small stream, where her tracks had gone in at one side but not out on the other. They'd eventually found her tracks nearly a mile downstream, but it had taken hours combing both shores to find them. The harder her tracks were to find, and the more they had to work to find them, the less they began to think they were being led into a trap. If Lylimet wanted them to follow her, why would she go to such an effort to hide where she was going? They would occasionally find a used fire pit, but only every few days, which just went to show how much more ground Lylimet was covering than they were.

Jandin seemed to be the most ill at ease, and his agitation appeared to increase daily. He was harder on himself than anyone else might be whenever he lost the trail, but at the same time, he was hesitant to continue on. "What if this is all an elaborate ruse," he said in camp one evening, after nearly two and a half weeks of tracking Lylimet through the Hinterlands. "What if she's just trying to get us lost? What if there's something bigger happening somewhere else, and we're being distracted so as not to... be there for it?"

Berton had seemed to find that amusing. "Are we lost then?"

"Well... no, not exactly," Jandin said, looking a little embarrassed. "I mean... I couldn't point out our exact location on a map, but if we head north, we'll eventually run into the Imperial Highway. But that doesn't mean there's not something nasty between us and the highway."

"There are always nasty things in the Hinterlands, and in the Wilds, which is where we'll be if she keeps going south," Jessimyn said as she sat down next to the fire. It was getting colder, and she'd finally pulled out her heavy, wool cloak to keep warm.

That particular area of Ferelden was riddled with rivers, ponds, and small lakes, and they'd camped near the banks of one of the larger lakes they'd come across. Nothing nearly so large as Lake Calenhad, of course, but large enough that they could all do some washing up, of their clothes and of themselves. If they could get over the shocking coldness of the water, of course. Jessimyn was still trying to work herself up to that. Kyran and Zevran had already returned from having a bath, and their skin glowed a bright pink from the cold. Or at least she assumed it was from the cold. With as often as Kyran blushed whenever he was around the elf, it was difficult to say with him.

Since Berton and Jandin seemed to be in no hurry to wade into the freezing water, Jessimyn grabbed her things and went down to the shore, far enough away from the group that she couldn't be seen, but close enough that they would hear her cry, should trouble arise. She decided to wash her things first, since she knew that once her hair was wet, she would want to hurry back to the fire. The number of articles of clothing she had in any sort of decent condition was dwindling. She only had three pairs of leggings left, since Berton had ripped her fourth pair beyond fixing. She had four shirts, as many chemises and nightgowns, five undertunics which she wore under her armor, and two pairs of trousers, plus socks and her other various underthings. She set aside her cleanest undertunic and pair of leggings, laid her sword at her feet, and stripped herself of the rest of her clothing. There was no threat of rain, so if she hung everything up by the fire, it would all be dry by morning, and Jessimyn hated packing dirty things if she didn't have to.

Clutching the cloak around her to keep out the chill wind, Jessimyn knelt by the bank and began washing. Her hands began going numb almost immediately, and she knew she was going to hate the bathing part, when it came to that. A large rock sat near the shore, and she began piling her clean clothing on top of it. When the last thing was washed, Jessimyn stood and took a deep breath, her hand going to the ties at the neck of the cloak. She was about to draw it from her shoulders when she heard a sound, coming from the direction opposite the camp. She drew the cloak together and whirled around. At first she saw nothing, but then the moonlight reflected off a pair of eyes, low to the ground.

Jessimyn couldn't tell for certain if it was the same wolf she'd seen before, but did it really matter? The wolf let out a low growl and took a few steps closer to her, though it was still far enough away that Jessimyn would have more than enough time to grab the sword at her feet, should it decide to charge. It let out two yips, then darted off into the dark. She stood very still, watching the direction from whence it had come, but after ten minutes, she decided it wasn't coming back. How very odd. She would have to be sure to mention it to the others when she got back to camp. Jessimyn wondered if the thing was rabid, considering how strangely it was acting. Yet another thing to look out for, it seemed.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the lake. She counted to three, then pushed the cloak off and dashed into the water. Going slowly would only make it hurt more, and she just wanted to get it all over with. The cold water made Jessimyn's head ache instantly, and she scrubbed soap over her body. The sound of her teeth clacking together seemed loud in the still, night air as she rubbed the soap into her hair. Taking a deep breath, she lowered herself beneath the surface and quickly rinsed the soap out of her hair, but when she stood back up, she wasn't prepared for what was in front of her.

The wolf was back, standing on the shore next to her things, staring right at her. The water only came up to her waist, but while her nudity in front of the wolf didn't bother her, the fact that Jessimyn's feet were losing feeling was a little worrisome. She thought about yelling for help, but then what? Someone would come rushing down (probably Berton), the wolf would get scared away, and then... she'd be standing there naked, for all to see? No, let that be a last resort.

"Shoo," she said, feeling utterly ridiculous. "Go on." The wolf crouched down just a little and let out another low growl, showing her its teeth. "What do you want?" Jessimyn asked it, exasperated. "It's freezing in here, and I'd like to get back to my fire, so... go away."

The wolf took a few steps closer, until its paws stood right at the edge where water met shore. It cocked its head to one side, as if regarding her. Jessimyn found herself crossing her arms over her chest, as if to shield herself from view. Why did it suddenly matter? The look the animal was giving her just seemed a little too... aware. Suddenly, its tongue lolled out of its mouth, giving her a strange, wolfy grin, and then it yipped at her, grabbed up some of her clothing in its jaws, and went running away. Jessimyn came tearing out of the water, chasing after the animal for a few steps before realizing it was pointless. She also realized she was still freezing at the same moment. Luckily, the wolf had left her cloak, and she quickly pulled it around her shoulders, trying to calm the shuddering of her body.

"Andraste's tits," she muttered to herself. It hadn't gotten away with much, but of course, the beast would have to have taken the only dry pieces of clothing she'd left for herself. It also seemed to have gotten another shirt and a pair of socks. Wonderful. Cursing under her breath, Jessimyn gathered the rest of her things and trudged back to camp. When she reached the fire, the others were gathered around it, talking together and laughing.

Zevran looked up at her, a smile on his face. "Refreshing, wasn't it?"

"The wolf came back," she said, and everyone looked at her.

"The same one?" Berton asked as he stood and took a few steps closer to her. Jessimyn responded by taking a few steps back. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Not completely, but it looked the same. And it..." She looked away, not able to meet anyone's eyes. "It stole some of my clothing." There was silence for a moment, then Berton laughed, quickly joined by Zevran and Jandin. Kyran just looked shocked. "Yes, it's very funny," Jessimyn snapped.

"Why... why would a wolf want your clothing?" Zevran asked, a grin on his face.

"Well, I don't bloody know! But... among the things it decided to take, it managed to get the only dry things I'd left out for myself." No, eye contact was _not_ happening. Jessimyn didn't want to see anyone's expression just then.

"So then you're..." Berton began, a small smile on his face, and Jessimyn looked up to see him closing the distance between them.

"...grateful that you're offering to hang up my wet things for me? I am, thank you so much," she said as she thrust the wet clothing into his arms. Wisely, the man didn't push it and instead began hanging her things from the rope they'd strung up near the fire. Jandin and Kyran discreetly looked away, but Zevran sauntered over to her.

"If you'd like, you may borrow something of mine, until your things are dry," he said.

Jessimyn gestured to the clothes line, where the things that Berton had finished hanging for her rested next to the drying clothing belonging to Zevran and Kyran. "Most of your things are wet, too."

Zevran nodded. "Yes, but I still have a clean shirt you could use..."

Jessimyn smiled at him. "All of your shirts practically fit you like a second skin. I'm not sure they would fit..."

"Over your lovely breasts, that is true. I'm willing to let you try it, though." He grinned at her.

Before Jessimyn could respond, Berton returned and tossed a bundle to her. She barely managed to catch it and still keep the cloak closed. It was a very large shirt and a pair of bright green socks. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry, kitten," he said. "They're clean. I always hold one set of clean things back, to change into while I wash everything else."

She wanted to refuse, but that would have been foolish. She couldn't just go to bed, with her hair still wet at it was. Plus, Jessimyn was hungry, and she wouldn't be able to eat and hold the cloak closed around her. She ducked her head and muttered a thanks before darting into her tent. The shirt was huge, and it hung wide around her shoulders, only seeming to be able to stay on one shoulder at a time. At least it was long, falling down to just above her knees. The socks, on the other hand, came just up to her knees, so that only her kneecaps were bare. As she held up a foot, she couldn't help but notice how much extra room was left in the sock where her toes ended, when the heel of the sock was in the right place. Rather than wear them that way, she pulled the socks up until her toes hit the ends, and now her knees were covered as well.

She ran her comb through her hair, replaced the cloak around her shoulders, and went back out to sit next to the fire. She turned her back to it, telling herself that it was only so that her hair could dry faster, but it also had the added benefit that she didn't have to look at anyone. She heard soft laughter coming from behind her, and Jessimyn felt her face going red, from anger as much as from embarrassment. The first person who spoke to her was going to get a large bruise in a not-so-pleasant place.

"Uhh... Jessimyn?"

She looked up and sighed. Well, she wasn't going to hit Kyran, of course. Especially since he was bringing her food. "Thank you," she said softly as he handed her a bowl of some sort of stew. It was watery, with very little meat in it, but at least it was warm. She was just finishing it when another person decided to approach her.

"I'm not sure green is your color."

Now Berton she wouldn't hesitate to hurt. But he was too far away, so she settled for scowling at him. Which, of course, he took as an invitation and sat next to her. "Okay, I've seen the socks. Now let me see the shirt."

"Piss off, Berton," she said as she began to stand.

Berton gave a small tug at the corner of her cloak, but Jessimyn jerked it out of his hands as she placed a foot on his shoulder and shoved. Or at least she tried. His body barely even move, and he reached up to grab onto her calf. While he did manage to keep her from losing her balance, he also got much more of a view of her lower body than she'd ever wanted him to have. She saw his eyes widen just a little, and then he quickly released her, rolling back onto his heels so that he was a little further away from her.

The camp was suddenly quiet, and Jessimyn was too afraid to turn and look, afraid that everyone would be staring at them. She was tired of these games, and it was time to put an end to them. Apparently trying to ignore his advances just wasn't working. "We need to talk," she said through gritted teeth.

Berton rose to his feet, his normal smile gone from his face. "We are talking now."

Jessimyn shook her head. "No. In private."

With a nod of his head, Berton said, "I still need to wash my things. Follow me back to the water, and we may talk there with no worry of anyone listening in."

Jessimyn just nodded at him and waited as he went to go collect his things. Kyran and Jandin had gone back to speaking softly to each other, but Jessimyn could feel Zevran staring at her. When she met his eye, he looked angry, but she just gave him a shake of her head. _Everything's fine, no need to worry,_ she tried to convey with that one movement.

Berton returned quickly, a full sack slung over his shoulder. He gave her the slightest nod, and then they went down to the lake together, a sizable distance between them as they walked. Without a word, he sank down next to the water and dumped his things out. As he began scrubbing his clothing, Jessimyn looked for a place to sit. The rock she'd used to put her own clothing on was still wet, so she just sat down cross-legged near Berton, careful to pull her cloak around her so that she was fully covered.

"You wanted to talk, kitten," he said, not looking at her. "So talk. Or don't. But once I'm done with these, I'm going to have a bath. You're free to watch of course, but I'd hate for the sight of me to distract you from what you have to say."

"Why must you talk to me that way? What have I done to earn your derision? Is it just because I'm a woman? I know many non-Fereldens seem to have a problem with the idea of a female Grey Warden."

Berton stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. "Derision?" The look on his face was so confused, it almost made Jessimyn laugh.

"Really? You don't see it?" The sarcasm dripped from her voice. "You never call me by my name. You mock me in front of the others. Perhaps you do not think I have earned your respect as a person, but I'd say that I've earned it as a fellow Grey Warden, and I insist that you treat me the same way you do the others. I'm tired of the pet names, the sleazy come-ons and innuendos. Whether you have any aims at _forcing_ me into anything I don't want to do or not, I'm tired of feeling like I need to be on my guard around people who are supposed to be my brothers."

Berton dried his hands on a piece of clothing that was still dry and moved closer to her, so that he was kneeling in front of her. "I can't help that I don't feel very... brotherly towards you. I want you, kit... Jessimyn." He reached a hand out to touch her face, but she flinched back. "And more than just your body, though what I've seen of it is quite remarkable." The comment, along with his grin, made her flush a little and turn away. "No, I want all of you, and I'm not the type of man who hides how he feels. Life is too short anyway, but especially for a Grey Warden. As to that, you say you want to be treated as everyone else, but you _are _a woman. Not that I'm saying that hinders your abilities as a soldier, but I'd be lying if I said I could ignore that fact."

He touched her arm through the cloak, and Jessimyn flinched again. "But that doesn't mean I don't respect you. I've seen you fight. I saw you up against those darkspawn, and you impressed me. Not because you're a woman, but because you risked yourself to help another. I've seen good men, strong men, freeze in the face of less. But if you feel I do not show you respect in front of the other men, well... I will try to remedy that." He stood up and held a hand out to her.

Jessimyn hesitated before taking it, and Berton pulled her up. As she made it to her feet, he slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "That doesn't mean I'll change how I act when we're alone, though," he said in that low, rumbly voice that seemed to vibrate across her skin. She couldn't help but shiver a little, and the arm around her waist tightened. "I do respect you as a Grey Warden, but I want you as a woman." He grinned at her. "So I'll save my _sleazy come-ons_ for our private conversations."

Placing her hands on his chest, Jessimyn pushed back, and the arm around her waist fell away. "And if I don't want you in the same way? Does that even matter?"

"Of course," said Berton, suddenly serious. "It means I have to try harder."

Jessimyn shook her head. "I'm not going to change my mind about this..." she began, but he cut her off.

"Maybe not right away, but you will. I can be patient."

She bristled at that. "You have quite the ego, don't you?"

Berton laughed. "So I've been told, yes. I'd rather think of myself as confident."

"But I despise you," she said simply.

He laughed again. "No you don't, Jessimyn. You just want to."

She didn't know what to say to that, so she just shook her head and said, "Jess."

Berton raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"It's just Jess. No one calls me Jessimyn... besides Kyran, and I think he's just too formal to shorten my name." A thought suddenly came to her, and Jessimyn looked away.

"What is it?" Berton asked, taking a step closer to her, so they were nearly touching.

"Lylimet... she called me Jessimyn."

"So?"

Jessimyn looked up at him. "I introduced myself as Jess. How did she know my full name?"


	55. Berton Chapter 55

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've decided to add a new point of view at this point in the story, since I felt the need for a little added variety. _

~***~

Berton gave Jessimyn a little shrug as he watched her bite at her lower lip. He wondered if she was even aware she did that when she was deep in thought, wondered if she knew how adorable it was. They were standing close enough that he could have put his arm around her again, but she'd already pushed him away, so he kept his hands at his side. If she only knew how often he wanted to touch her, how often he restrained himself...

"Lylimet wouldn't have known to call me Jessimyn," she was saying, and they were close enough that she had to tilt her head up to look at him.

"Maybe, maybe not," Berton replied. "How do you know that one of the others didn't call you that, and she heard it?"

"But as I said, Kyran is really the only person who calls me by my full name, and I don't think he really talked to her much," she said as she took a step back.

"But he might have," Berton pressed. "And you forget, kitten, that you're not exactly unknown. There have been very few other women in the Grey Wardens throughout Thedas, but you're the only one in Ferelden, as far as I know. It's possible she'd heard of you, what with you being a hero and all."

Jessimyn scowled. "I thought you were going to call me by my name."

Berton smiled at her and reached out to touch the ends of her hair, which was still lying unbound around her shoulders. "In front of the others, yes, I'll do my best."

She just sighed. "I'm not going to get any better from you, am I?"

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "So many ways to answer that question." He lowered his voice, which always seemed to make her lean in a little to hear what he was going to say. "I could tell you that there are many things you could get from me... all you have to do is let me know you want them."

She snorted. "You assume quite a bit with that statement. But as I once again realize that trying to talk to you is pointless, I'll leave you to your filth."

She turned and started walking back towards the camp. "Was it just her using your name, or was there another reason why you think she knew you?" He gave the question casually as he moved back to his laundry, not turning to see if she'd stop.

There was no response as Berton scrubbed at a pair of breeches, and he assumed she had ignored his question and gone back, when he heard her voice from behind him. "I don't know. There was just... something about her. Almost something... familiar, but I can't say what it was, or why I felt that way."

"As in..." Berton set the breeches aside and grabbed a shirt. "...someone perhaps you'd seen before? Maybe someone you saw in, say, Lothering or Redcliffe or somewhere else nearby? Or maybe she reminds you of someone you once knew?"

He heard her laugh behind him, then caught her movement from the corner of his eye as she once again moved to sit next to him, though not within reaching distance. "I think I'd remember someone who looked like her," she said.

Berton cocked his head at her. "True. Hers is not a face you'd forget. Are you sure that your _reaction_ to her wasn't just one of jealousy?" He watched her face as he asked the question. He couldn't help it. It was almost like a game to him, to see what he could say to her, to see how she would react. He was actually a bit disappointed when she didn't seem to rise to the bait.

"Jealousy? No. I mean, if you're implying that I was feeling catty because she was prettier than me... no, that's not it. I don't know. Maybe I'm grasping at nothing here."

"Likely," Berton said, and he heard her make a small noise, but he kept talking. "You feel guilty for what happened to Joffey. While logically you know there was nothing you could have done to save him, your mind is trying to come up with things you must have missed, things you had to have done wrong, so as to justify your guilt." He looked up to see her giving him a thoughtful look, and he smiled. "I do it, too."

Jessimyn nodded slowly, combing her fingers through her still-damp hair. "Maybe..."

Berton set the last of his clothing aside and stood. "Go back to camp," he said. "You must be freezing. Or stay and watch me bathe. Either is fine with me." He pulled his shirt off, and she jumped up quickly.

Berton laughed softly as Jessimyn scurried back to camp, and he waited until she was out of sight before pulling off his breeches. The bath was quick, and Berton chuckled to himself, thinking he was glad Jessimyn hadn't stayed to watch, as the cold water wouldn't have left him looking very impressive to her. Not that he'd expected her to stay, of course. It was also much too cold for him to fully appreciate the memory of what her thighs had looked like under her shirt, so he pushed that thought away, to save for later.

The frigid weather had everyone going to their tents early that night, and they were packed up and on their way as soon as the sun was up the next day. Jandin picked up Lylimet's trail, and the group continued their journey. It was nearing sunset when he stopped, and Berton wondered if they had lost the trail until Jandin called everyone forward. "Look at this," he said.

They'd been walking near the edge of a small stream, and the ground was wet, so that the tracks they were following were fairly clear. Everyone moved to crowd around Jandin, to see where he was pointing. There were a few clear footprints, but on top of them were some other tracks.

"Wolf," Berton said in a low voice, and Jandin turned to nod at him.

"Yes, so it would seem. But that's not what's odd. We've passed a number of animal tracks, being this close to a source of water. No, look where they begin... and where they end."

Berton turned his head, letting his eyes follow the tracks back to where they started, a little ways away from the water. "Just tell us what we're supposed to be seeing, Jandin," he said.

Jandin smiled. "Well, the tracks are almost perfectly on top of Lylimet's, but more importantly, they just seem to... appear out of nowhere." He pointed to the first set of prints. "Right here. They're just all of a sudden there."

Berton glanced at the nearby stream. "But the wolf could have been walking in the water and jumped out at that point, could it have not?"

"Maybe," Jandin said with a shrug. "Problem with that, though, is that the water's really fucking cold. Would you want to walk in it barefoot if you didn't have to? But that would also seem to suggest that the wolf was aware it was leaving tracks and was trying to cover them. I don't know of any animals smart enough to know to do that." He walked a few steps up, to where the wolf tracks ended. "Same thing here. They just stop. Again, I suppose it could have either jumped back into the stream, or over there into the brush, but it would be really strange behavior for a wolf."

"Maybe it... just didn't leave any other tracks?" Kyran offered.

Jandin shook his head. "The ground is too soft here. I haven't seen this wolf, to see how large it is, but they can weigh as much as a person, probably more than, say, Jess, and she's leaving tracks behind. There should be more."

"I'm just a dainty elf, and even I leave footprints," said Zevran with a smile.

"So what does it mean, then?" Berton asked.

Jandin grinned. "I never said I had an explanation for it. I just said it was odd."

"What about this?" Jessimyn asked, from where she was crouching next to some of the tracks. She was pointing to a strange marking in the soft ground.

Jandin moved to kneel next to her, and Berton followed to peer over their shoulders. "I don't know," said Jandin. "Could be nothing. It's not a footprint, or pawprint, of that I'm certain. But it could be a..." He leaned in closer.

"...noseprint?" Jessimyn asked, and Jandin gave her a nod.

"Could be. Maybe. But that would imply that the wolf was scenting after Lylimet, that it was following her just as we are." Jandin frowned. "Again, odd behavior for a wolf. Of course, that's assuming this is still the same wolf, but I suppose it's too much of a coincidence that we'd be running into multiple lone wolves."

Berton watched as Jessimyn rose slowly, a slight frown on her face as she bit at her lower lip. She glanced up and caught him watching her, and her face smoothed, as if she was trying very carefully to hide something. Berton frowned. "Well, let's keep going. Zevran, I want you to be looking out for this wolf as much as you're searching for traps."

The elf nodded, and the group pushed on. Berton waited a little while, until they'd all spread out to their normal traveling distances, with him and Jessimyn trailing behind. "What were you thinking back there, kitten?" He asked, pitching his voice low so it wouldn't travel forward to the rest of the group.

She gave him a somewhat startled look. "What do you mean?"

Berton grinned at her. "You thought of something back there, but now you're trying to hide it. What was it?"

Jessimyn slowly shook her head. "No, it's just that same sense I've been having, like there's something I'm not getting. There's a strange familiarity to all of this for some reason, but I don't know why." She gave him a little smile. "I'm actually trying _not_ to think about it, since every time I attempt to focus on it, it's like whatever it is I'm grasping at just slides further away."

He chuckled. "So you find something familiar about a situation where you're tracking down a dangerous woman who killed a fellow Grey Warden, while simultaneously being followed by a clothes-stealing wolf?"

She smirked at him and shook her head. "Oh, Berton. If only things were as simple as what's inside your head."

They spent another week, slowly following the trail Lylimet had left for them. Occasionally they found wolf tracks, but it was like before, where they'd only find a few, and they seemed to just appear and disappear at random. Berton was getting very frustrated. He would have almost preferred an ambush to the continual boredom of following this woman who seemed to be moving in circles, though always in a vaguely southward direction. In fact, all of them, besides the elf of course, would get twinges from time to time, almost like they could sense... something, but it was never clear. Truly, that worried Berton more than he would tell any of them.

Regardless of Jessimyn's experience in dealing with the darkspawn, she was still a relatively young Grey Warden, and Jandin and Kyran had gone through their Joinings even more recently than she. Even if the darkspawn were not very close, far enough away that their sense of them was only slight, they should have _all _been feeling them. Instead, one of them would feel something, but the others would have no sense that anything was nearby. That wasn't how it was supposed to work. Berton had been out with groups before many times, in the Free Marches, and they all generally seemed to sense things at the same time. No, whatever was going on, it was definitely outside of anything he'd ever experienced before. And Berton didn't like that, not one bit.

When Jandin lost the trail again, it was late enough in the evening that Berton had everyone set up their tents. It could take hours to find it again, so they weren't likely to get much further that day anyway. Jandin and Zevran would continue looking for the trail as long as the sun was still up, so Kyran got a fire going while Berton and Jessimyn went to go look for fresh meat for the evening. She was decent enough with a bow, but she was a little squeamish with the skinning, which Berton found hilarious. The woman could kill darkspawn without batting an eye, but she couldn't handle skinning a rabbit. They'd just barely gone out when they heard a commotion coming from the direction of the camp, and they went back to see what was going on. Jandin and Zevran had returned, and Jandin hurried over to them as soon as he saw them. His face was a little red, and he seemed to be out of breath.

"What is it?" Berton asked. "Did you find the trail again?"

"Even better," Jandin said, a strange smile on his face. "We found Lylimet."


	56. Zevran Chapter 56

"What do you mean, you found Lylimet? Where was she? Did she see you?" Berton spat out the questions quickly, and neither Jandin nor Zevran had a chance to answer. "Take us to her," the man demanded, and Jandin led the way.

Zevran let Jandin and Berton walk in front, while he trailed a little behind with Jessimyn and Kyran. The mage was especially on edge, and while Zevran might have tried to settle his nerves a little, Kyran seemed to be becoming increasingly agitated whenever Zevran was too close, particularly if he ever made as if to touch him, so he let Jessimyn walk between the two of them. "Does she know we're coming?" Jessimyn asked, a skeptical look on her face, and Zevran just gave her a little smile.

They walked in silence for about fifteen minutes, following the trail that Jandin and Zevran had found. It led across a narrow stream into a small clearing, and then Jandin stopped and pointed. "There she is," Jandin said softly, gesturing to the figure on the ground.

Zevran watched as Berton and Jessimyn moved forward to inspect Lylimet's body. Kyran stayed back, his eyes focused more on the trees around them. Zevran touched his arm lightly, and the mage managed not to flinch. The elf turned his attention back to the others, where Berton was leaning down next to the woman.

"Well, it's definitely her," he said as he gently moved the dark hair from off the woman's face.

Everyone but Kyran moved up to make a circle around the woman they'd just spent nearly the last month tracking. While Zevran had seen his fair share of dead bodies in his life, they were almost always very fresh, so it was difficult for him to say just how long the woman had been dead. A few days at least. Of course, how long the woman had been dead wasn't the most pressing question he had about her.

"How did she die?" Zevran heard Jessimyn say from beside him. Yes, that was the question he wanted answered. Her position, lying on the ground with her cloak pulled around her, actually looked somewhat peaceful, and her closed eyes gave off the illusion that she was simply sleeping.

Jandin shook his head. "We didn't really inspect her, when we found her. We just came back to get the rest of you. But look at the ground around you."

Berton and Jessimyn both look around themselves, and Zevran heard Jessimyn make a little gasp. "Wolf tracks," she said, her voice soft. "Maker..."

Berton muttered something softly under his breath and began removing Lylimet's cloak. Zevran was actually a little surprised by how gentle the man was being, especially considering she was already dead. No one spoke as the cloak was set aside, and Berton began inspecting her body.

"There's a bite here, on her hand," he said, holding Lylimet's arm up by the wrist. As he set her hand back down, his fingers moved to a tear in the woman's skirt, which he pushed up to reveal another bite on her calf. "But neither of these would have killed her, and... I don't see any blood. So what..."

"Magic," Kyran answered softly, and everyone turned to look at him.

He still stood a few steps back from the rest of them, still seemed unable to look at the body on the ground. Instead, his eyes were looking up, and he gestured to the trees above them. Zevran peered up to try and see what it was Kyran was seeing. The trees circled the small clearing they were in, but there was something strange about the. The limbs closest to the clearing were completely stripped of their leaves, and the branches almost seemed to be leaning away from Lylimet's body. Zevran turned his focus back to Kyran with a frown.

"There was a blast of... something, in the place where she... where the body is. You can see its effect on the trees, the way the branches look like they've been blown back. I don't know what it was, but it was something big, the spell that killed her."

"Might you be able to tell more if you examined the body?" Berton asked, and Kyran took a small step back.

Jessimyn turned and held a hand out to Kyran. "I want to look at her more closely, too," she said, and Kyran consented, moving forward while the rest of them moved out of their way.

It was odd, that Kyran seemed so reluctant to examine Lylimet's body, when he hadn't appeared to have a problem with Joffey's. But then, maybe that was because he had known Joffey, had considered him a brother if not also a friend. Or then, maybe it was because Lylimet was a woman, and women's bodies made the mage very nervous. Zevran almost smiled, recalling Kyran's slight hesitation at tending to Jessimyn, when she had been hurt in Denerim. Not that he hadn't done it, of course, but he never managed to hide the fact that it obviously made him uncomfortable.

Kyran crouched down, his hands held up over Lylimet's body but not touching it. Jessimyn slowly undid the buttons leading down the front of the woman's dress and stripped it off to the waist. Zevran watched as Jessimyn lifted up Lylimet's arms to inspect them, then rolled the body to its side to check her back. "Besides the bites, I don't see any other wounds. Not even defensive ones. If the wolf attacked her, she didn't fight back."

Kyran nodded and stood, a little too quickly, and moved a few steps back. "It was definitely magic that killed her, but I still can't tell what kind of spell it was. It feels... strange, though. Wrong."

"Wrong how?" Jessimyn asked as she stood up.

Kyran shook his head. "I don't know. Just wrong. The same way the spell on the farmhouse had seemed wrong. Like nothing I've ever seen in the Circle Tower, that's for sure."

"Do you think she was killed by the mage from the farmhouse, then?" Berton asked.

"I can't say," Kyran admitted. "There's no signature with spells, so I can't just tell who cast it. And I'm not saying it's even the same _type _of spell. Just that... oh, I don't know. It could be the same person. All things considered, it's _likely_ the same person, but I can't just look at what happened here and say for certain."

There was a long silence then, as everyone cycled their attention from the body to the trees to the tracks on the ground. Finally, Berton cleared his throat. "Let's go back to camp. We can discuss our next move there."

Kyran made a small sound. "We can't... are we just going to leave her body like this?"

Jessimyn had covered the woman's upper body with the cloak Lylimet had been wearing, but she was otherwise as they'd found her. Jandin rounded on Kyran, and Zevran was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. "She deserves no better, for what she did to Joffey. Let the wolves finish her off, I say."

Jandin turned and started back to camp, Berton beside him. Jessimyn only hesitated a moment before following after them. Zevran took a few steps, then turned, waiting for Kyran. The mage stared down at Lylimet's body for a bit, enough time to let the other three move out of sight, then he gave Zevran a nod and they started back for camp as well. Kyran only paused once as they were walking back, but Zevran had a feeling that, if he had turned behind him to look, he would have seen Lylimet's body in flames.

The sun was just starting to set as they all made it back to camp, and the five of them gathered around the fire that Jandin had gotten started. "So what do we do now?" He asked as he poked a stick into the flames.

"What about this wolf of yours?" Zevran asked, looking at Berton and Jessimyn.

"We can't possibly track a wolf," Jandin cut in, before either of the others could answer. "Besides, it only seems to leave a trail about half the time anyway."

"No, we're not following a wolf," Berton said softly. "Besides, for all we know, the wolf didn't come upon Lylimet's body until after she was already dead. But even if it was there when she died, what would we do? Question the thing?"

Zevran suddenly had an idea, and he glanced at Jessimyn. She was looking at him, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing. He gave her a little nod, which she returned, and then he turned his attention back to the others. However, he couldn't miss the look that Berton was giving Jessimyn, and he didn't like it.

Berton cleared his throat softly, then continued. "In the morning, we'll head north until we reach the highway, then we'll make for the nearest town, which will probably be either Redcliffe or Lothering. If there have been more attacks, then we'll investigate."

"And if not?" Zevran asked.

Berton frowned at him. "If not, then we'll figure out our next move from there."

With that settled, they all began moving apart. Zevran followed Jessimyn over near her tent, so that they were out of earshot of the others. "He's watching us," Zevran said softly.

Jessimyn apparently didn't have to ask who he meant. "As long as he can't hear us."

Zevran nodded in agreement. "So..." He touched her arm, knowing that he did it in part because Berton was watching them so closely. "What do you think about all of this?"

Jessimyn gave him an almost embarrassed smile. "You know, there's been something tickling at me about this whole situation for a long time now, but today... why did it take me so long to think of it, I wonder?" She shook her head. "What if our mage is a shapeshifter?"

Zevran gave her a nod. "The same thought I had, yes. It would make sense as to why the wolf tracks seem to appear and disappear at random. But do you think it's Morrigan?"

Jessimyn shivered at the suggestion, and Zevran ran his hand up her arm. His eyes flicked over to where Berton was sitting. The man was blatantly watching the two of them, making no attempt to hide the fact. "I don't know," Jessimyn said. "It would explain why it stole my clothes, of course. But why would she..." She pressed her eyes together. "And then who was Lylimet? Why would she have been following her? There are just so many questions that we'll likely never get answers to." She shivered again. "Maker."

"Well, if it's her, then when we make it back to the nearest town, we'll likely hear of another darkspawn attack. Though why would they be chasing her?" Jessimyn continued shivering, and Zevran frowned at her. "It's not _that _cold, Jess."

"I... think I'm going to go to sleep now," she said, her voice strange. "I need to think about things. Maybe I'll have some new ideas in the morning."

Zevran watched as she walked back towards her tent, but she was only halfway there when he heard Berton call her over. His eyes narrowed a little as he saw how close she sat to him, how she leaned her head a little into his as they spoke quietly.

"I have a couple of theories," came a voice next to him. "I'm wondering if you'll tell me which is correct."

Turning his head, Zevran raised his eyebrows at Jandin, who stood at his side, grinning a little at him. "What theories?"

The grin widened as Jandin said, "Either you're a protective older brother type, or you're a jealous lover. I can't tell which, though." He chuckled softly. "I mean, the way you watch them is almost the same as the way he watches the two of you, although with Berton, it's obvious he's the jealous lover. Or aspiring lover, anyway."

Zevran returned the smile, but it was a cold one. "If I were her lover, I'd have no reason to be jealous, of that I'm certain. As for protective, well... I have made oaths to her, and... let's just say I have a vested interest in her well-being."

"Ah, but which _parts_ of you are the most interested, I wonder..." Jandin said, still grinning, but he moved away before Zevran had a chance to answer.

Zevran frowned after the man but finally just shook his head and went over to Kyran, who was sitting just outside his tent. "How are you doing?" Zevran asked him gently as he sat next to him.

Kyran didn't look up. "You must think me very weak," he said, his voice soft. "I guess... I find it easier to deal with dead darkspawn than dead people."

"Not weak," Zevran said as he patted the man's knee. "Just... innocent." He knew he shouldn't be teasing Kyran, but he couldn't help it. The man blushed more than anyone he'd ever known, and Zevran watched as that familiar redness crept up the mage's face.

"Right, I... think I'm going to bed now then." He stood up a little too fast, but he paused before disappearing into his tent to look at Zevran. "Goodnight," he said, and then he was gone.

Zevran sighed. Kyran might be more fun to play with if he didn't always run away so quickly. Zevran glanced briefly over at Jessimyn and Berton before retiring to his own tent. Well, hopefully in a week or so, he'd be able to manage a real bath, along with a real bed. Preferably one in which he wouldn't have to sleep alone.

The next morning they began their trek back north, and by the end of the day they'd come upon a rather large river, winding its way north and south. They followed it for nearly a week until it turned west, and within another couple of days, they'd reached the Imperial Highway.

"Redcliffe is west of here," Kyran said when they reached the road. "Probably not too far, either, since we can see Lake Calenhad in the distance."

Berton nodded. "Let's travel west, then. We should be closer to Redcliffe than Lothering, and a larger town might have better news. Let's go."

Since they were no longer keeping a specific formation, Zevran was able to walk next to Jessimyn, pulling her back a little from the others. He saw the tightness in her eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Not excited to be going back to Redcliffe?" He asked her with a grin. "Why ever not? I'm sure your old friend Teagan will give us a lovely welcome."

"That's what I'm worried about," she said with a groan.


	57. Jessimyn Chapter 57

Jessimyn's worries about any sort of interaction between herself and Teagan in Redcliffe were apparently unfounded. The man wasn't even there. That was good. It seemed he had gone to Denerim with his new wife to visit the king. So Teagan was married. That was even better. However, he'd taken most of the castle with him when they'd gone, so there was only a small group of servants still there, none of whom had heard any news or rumors or darkspawn activity in the area. Still, they got all of the Grey Wardens settled in and fed, which was most important to the five travelers.

Since Zevran and Jandin were set on heading down to the village, to spend some time in the tavern there, Jessimyn let them take their baths first. They made some weak argument that they just wanted to gather any information that might be had, but Berton didn't seem to care either way.

"We'll stay here two nights, unless we hear of something dire before then, before pressing on to Lothering. I think we all deserve at least a little rest," he said, and no one argued with him.

Zevran and Jandin somehow managed to convince Kyran to accompany them, and the three of them set out just as it was starting to get dark. Berton was holed up in the library, trying to find more maps, leaving Jessimyn to fend for herself. Such bliss. She had the servants fill a tub for her, bringing in extra buckets of hot water for rinsing. She also had them bring her a bottle of wine, then sent them out so she could enjoy her bath. After weeks of freezing baths, soaking in a tub of water as hot as she could handle was wonderful.

When she finished, Jessimyn dressed in a clean pair of trousers and a loose blouse, though it was really just to have something to wear until she got back to her room, where she planned on climbing into a large, soft bed and sleeping as long as she was possibly able. However, as she was walking back down the hallway to the room where she'd be staying, she ran into Berton.

"Ah, there you are, kitten," he said. "I've found some maps I'd like you to look at. I've marked all the previous attacks I can remember, but I want you to see if there are some I've missed."

Jessimyn gave him a little nod. "Of course, Berton. But in the morning. Right now I just want to go to bed."

He grinned at her as they rounded a corner to stop in front of two doors, on opposite sides of the hallway. "Bed... yes, that does sound like a better idea. So am I joining you in yours, or you in mine?"

Jessimyn just laughed softly and shook her head as she turned to her own door, but as she reached for the doorknob, she paused. It was the same room she'd used the last two times she'd been in Redcliffe, which meant Berton was staying in the room Riordan had used that fateful night, so long ago. She turned around, the story on her lips, about to tell Berton how the room he was staying in was where she'd learned what it really meant to be a Grey Warden during a Blight. She was even smiling a little as she turned to face him, but apparently he misread her intentions, misread her reason for turning around, and he moved towards her before she could speak.

One of his hands snaked around her waist while the other buried itself into her wet hair as his lips crashed down on her own. Her eyes widened, and her hands scrabbled at the door at her back, but she had to open her mouth a little to his lest he bruise her lips against her own teeth. Jessimyn's hand found the doorknob behind her, and she gave it a sharp twist, pushing the door open behind her. She stumbled back into her room, grabbing at the door to right herself, ready to slam it in Berton's face should he try to follow her in.

Jessimyn couldn't say what her own face looked like, but it caused Berton's look of hungry anticipation to slide off his face, replaced quickly by a look of... anguish? Perhaps that was too strong a word, but Jessimyn couldn't help but feel like he looked a little like a kicked puppy. He had been forced to hunch down to kiss her, and he straightened quickly.

"Forgive me, Jessimyn," he said, his voice husky. "I thought you..." But he didn't finish his thought. He pressed his eyes shut briefly, then turned on his heel and went into his own room, closing the door softly behind him.

With a start, Jessimyn realized she was still standing there, her own door wide open. She shut it quickly, then after just a moment's hesitation, she turned the lock. It was silly, she knew. If Berton hadn't tried to push his way into her room just then, he certainly wouldn't be doing it later on that night. And really, the lock was a flimsy thing, meant more to make sure servants didn't come barging in when they weren't wanted rather than for actual protection, but Jessimyn felt a little safer with it locked, just the same.

She shook a little as she changed into her nightgown and crawled into the bed. Jessimyn scrubbed a hand over her mouth, as if she could erase the feel of Berton's lips on her own. As she lay there in the dark, she couldn't quite get the memory of his face, of how hurt he looked, out of her mind, and she almost felt guilty. But that was ridiculous. She finally managed to push thoughts of Berton out of her head long enough and fell into a deep sleep.

The sun was already up and shining when she awoke the next morning. Jessimyn quickly slipped back into her trousers and blouse, pulled her hair back into a simple braid, then went to find something for breakfast. There were a few trays left out in the dining area, but Jessimyn wanted something more than fruit and bread, so she headed towards the kitchen. However, as she got closer, she could hear Berton's voice, and she quickly turned around. Maybe fruit and bread was fine after all. Grabbing as much as she could carry, she scurried away. Normally she would have gone out onto one of the balconies to eat, but she was tired of eating outside, and it was likely cold anyway, so she headed for the library.

The library in Redcliffe castle was not quite as large as the one she'd had in Highever, but she really only needed one book. After scanning the few bookshelves that were there, she selected a large book of children's stories. While it would not have been her first choice at home, Jessimyn knew they were only going to stay in Redcliffe for the day, so it made no sense to choose a book she'd be only part of the way through before they had to leave. At least this one had many different stories, so she could at least get a few finished. Moving into the corner of the room, Jessimyn set the book and her food down, then grabbed a cushion off a nearby chair and settled in.

She'd been reading for a few hours when she heard a sigh. Jessimyn looked up to see Kyran standing over her. Apparently he took the eye contact as permission to join her, and he sat down next to her. The mage's eyes were a little red, and he didn't look particularly happy, but he didn't say anything, so Jessimyn turned her attention back to her book. She'd gotten through a couple more pages when he sighed again.

"Something bothering you, Kyran?" She tried not to smile. "Did you have fun last night?"

"No," he said, surprising her by the shortness of his voice. "That I did not."

Jessimyn set the book aside. "What happened?"

He sighed again. "Jandin and Zevran decided it would be very funny to attempt to get me intoxicated. Then they decided it would be even funnier if they tried to embarrass me in front of the other people in the tavern."

"What happened?" Jessimyn repeated.

"There was this woman," he said, his eyes on his hands. "Well, Jandin was being very loud, trying to make sure everyone knew we were Grey Wardens, and this woman came over. Jandin was trying to flirt with her, but it seemed she was more interested in... in Zevran. She was staring at him, and she made the comment that she'd never kissed a Grey Warden before. So then Zevran..." His face had gone beyond his usual embarrassed pink color to full red. "Zevran said she should try it sometime because he greatly enjoyed it, and then he..." Kyran fidgeted with the hem of his robe. "He moved to sit in my lap, and he... Maker, Jessimyn. He kissed me. Right there in front of everyone. And they all laughed at me, even the people who weren't at our table but who were close enough nearby to hear what was going on."

Jessimyn pressed her lips together, trying to think of the gentlest way to put what she wanted to say. "So, are you upset that he kissed you, or that he kissed you in front of so many people?"

Kyran's eyes flew up to meet hers, and it was the first time he'd ever looked at her in anger. "After he... did that, he told this woman that he wasn't actually a Grey Warden, so if she wanted to kiss one, she'd have to choose either Jandin or me, but that I was already taken. Then everyone laughed even more." The anger seemed to fall away, and he looked down again. "I left then. I practically ran out of there, which just seemed to make everyone laugh even more. Why..." His voice cracked a little. "Why would he do that?"

Jessimyn smiled a little. "You know Zev's sense of humor. He likes to tease. He likes to see you blush. I hate to say it, but running away like you did will probably just end up encouraging him."

Kyran groaned softly and rubbed his eyes. "He... I..." He looked up at her again, a helpless look on his face.

"I know," she said softly as she patted his knee.

Kyran chuckled to himself. "Not that it matters, though. I mean... he's obviously completely in love with you, just waiting for the day when you'll return the feeling."

Jessimyn drew back, a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. "No, you're mistaken there, Kyran. Zevran doesn't love anyone, not in a _being in love_ sort of way. He cares about me, I'm sure, as I care about him, but..."

Kyran shook his head. "No, you must not notice the way he looks at you, the way he watches you. And I'm not talking about the way Berton watches you, like you're some sort of fancy dessert he'd like to devour. No, Zevran watches you the way the king does."

Jessimyn sat very still. She didn't want to hear any of that. She certainly didn't want anyone to feel that way about her, not Zevran, definitely not Berton... not even Alistair, though she knew it was only the most logical parts of her brain that thought that.

Kyran seemed to notice her discomfort and gave her a small smile. "But then, I've followed at your heels since I met you, and I suppose I love you, as well... in my own way. Like the trusted older sister I never had."

Jessimyn smiled and put an arm around him as though to hug him, but Kyran's whole body stiffened. She hugged him anyway. There were many things about Kyran that she did not know, but she'd come to assume certain things had happened in his past. Maybe his parents had abandoned him as soon as they found out he could wield magic. Maybe the other apprentices in the Circle Tower had been overly mean. Maybe a lot of things. She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "Not everyone who touches you wants to hurt you, Kyran."

The tension in him seemed to fall away, and while he didn't put his arms around her as well, he leaned his head on her shoulder. Well, that was a start. Jessimyn released him after a moment and patted his hand. "I don't think Zevran was trying to hurt you or embarrass you, not really. Yes, he was trying to tease, but he might have assumed you would have... enjoyed the attention?"

Kyran was about to say something to that when they heard someone clearing their throat, and they both looked up to see another visitor in the library.

"I thought I might find you here," said Berton, from where he stood at the doorway. Was he really just entering the room, or had he been standing there a while and just finally decided to announce himself? Jessimyn cursed herself for her inattention. "I'd still like you to look at those maps, when you have a moment," he continued, his face calm and blank.

Kyran stood up quickly. "I think I'm going to go find some breakfast," he said as he left the library, leaving Jessimyn alone with Berton. The thing she'd been trying to avoid.

Jessimyn picked up the book she'd been reading and stood up. Berton made no move towards her, no move to offer a hand to help her stand. That was good. "I have time," she said. "Where are they?"

"Here, actually," he said as he walked over to a small table on the other side of the room, beside a small bookshelf.

Jessimyn joined him at the table and looked at the map. There were a number of markings on it, and she was actually surprised by all that he remembered. While he had done away with the different colors of the marks to indicated when an attack had occurred, it looked much like their original had. She poured over it for a few minutes, then looked up at him. Berton stood at the corner of the table, just watching her.

"There are none you've missed as far as I can tell," she said.

He nodded. "Very well, then. Thank you."

She hesitated, as if waiting for him to say more, but when he didn't, Jessimyn just nodded back at him and turned to leave. She'd made it to the doorway when he called after her.

"Kitten... Jessimyn... wait. Please." Again, the name, and the _please_ made her pause, and she turned around. "I want to apologize for my actions last night," he said, his voice very formal. "I was under the mistaken idea that you were inviting me to kiss you, but from your reaction, that was apparently not the case. So I am sorry."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she just nodded. "It's... it's fine, Berton. Just... don't let it happen again."

He smiled at her. "Oh, I hope it happens again many times. Just when I have your permission to do so." Jessimyn sighed and shook her head as she left the library.

No one in town had heard any darkspawn-related rumors, so they set out towards Lothering the next morning. Jessimyn waited until they had been walking a few hours before she pulled Zevran away from the others.

"Have you talked to Kyran?" She asked.

He grimaced at her. "He told you about the tavern, then, yes? We were simply having a little fun." Zevran grinned. "Besides, I thought he would like me kissing him."

"Maybe if it hadn't been in jest," Jessimyn said carefully, trying very hard to ignore how she felt about Zevran kissing someone else, regardless of that person's gender. "You know he's... sensitive, and he embarrasses easily."

"Yes," Zevran agreed. "Maybe _too_ sensitive, to be spending time around someone like me." He smiled at her. "But have no fear, my dear Jessimyn. I begged his forgiveness for my rude behavior just this morning, and he has graciously forgiven me, so all is well."

Jessimyn chuckled. "Well... good."

Travel along the road was much quicker than it had been in the forests and hills, and they made good time towards Lothering. It was after midday, about a week and a half after they'd left Redcliffe, when they saw a large band of travelers coming towards them on the highway. As they got closer, they realized it was Teagan and his people, on their way back to Redcliffe. They halted as they came upon them, and Teagan gave Jessimyn a large smile when he saw her.

"Jessimyn Cousland. How lovely to see you. Have you come from Redcliffe?"

She nodded. "Yes, on our way to Lothering, then likely back to Amaranthine."

Teagan nodded. "My wife and I have just come from Denerim. Have you met her? My wife, I mean? No, we were not married the last time I saw you. At the festival in Denerim, was it not? That's right, I'm married now. I suppose I couldn't stay a bachelor forever, could I? Let me get her. I'd like you to meet her." With that, he turned and went to one of the carriages.

Jessimyn heard Berton chuckling behind her as they waited for Teagan to return. "Another admirer?" He whispered softly, but Jessimyn was saved from having to respond as Teagan came back, a lovely woman on his arm.

She was very petite, and she looked very young, younger than Jessimyn was. She knew Teagan had to be close to Berton's age, but that was the way of nobles, was it not? The woman looked a little nervous but managed a smile for everyone's benefit. "This is Elda. Elda, this is Jessimyn Cousland."

Her eyes widened a little. "The Hero of Ferelden," she said in a breathy voice. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"And you," Jessimyn said with a nod of her head. They stood and chatted for a short time, most of which consisted of Teagan making a show of the fact that he was married, but Berton finally informed them all that they needed to keep going.

"Of course," Teagan consented. "We've actually just left Lothering this morning, so you should be there within a few hours. I'm sure you travel faster than we do, even without the horses." He smiled. "It was lovely to see you again, Lady Cousland."

They had all turned to go when Teagan called to her. "Oh!" He said, an amount of excitement in his voice. "You probably haven't heard the good news. Of course you haven't. We seem to be spreading it as we go, though it will be all over Ferelden before too long."

"Oh?" Jessimyn looked at him. "And what is that?"

"The queen," he said with a smile. "She's pregnant."


	58. Jessimyn Chapter 58

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Fear not, gentle readers. We will return to the plot next chapter. _

_~***~_

"The queen is pregnant," Jessimyn repeated.

Teagan smiled and nodded before he hurried back to his traveling party to once again be on their way back to Redcliffe. Jessimyn just stood there, no expression on her face, but she could tell that Zevran and Kyran were both looking at her. In fact, it seemed Berton was looking at her, too, but then, he always seemed to be. Jandin was looking at all of them in turn.

"That's... good, right?" Jandin asked. "Isn't it good for the king to have an heir? Why does everyone look so..."

It was Kyran who jumped in. "Of course it's good. It's just that we'd always heard that Grey Wardens couldn't have children. You know, after the Joining. If the king is going to be a father, then that means... well, something I suppose."

"Yes," agreed Berton. "It means he's having a lot more sex than any of the rest of us. Come on, then. The Arl said we're close to Lothering, so let's get moving. I'd like to get there sooner rather than later."

"I thought he was a Bann..." Kyran said.

"He was," Jessimyn replied, trying to force some emotion into her voice. "But he's the Arl of Redcliffe now, since Eamon has been serving as an adviser to Alistair since he took the throne."

"Oh, to be such a lady," Jandin said with a grin. "To be on a first name basis with all the important people in Ferelden."

Jessimyn chuckled at that, and it seemed to break the spell a little. With a shake of her head, she said, "Perhaps, with hard work, someday you _will _be such a lady. Now come on. Let's go."

Their pace quickened, knowing that they were close to the town. Jessimyn moved at the front of the group, near Berton. Not because she desired his company in any way, of course, but she couldn't bare the sideways glances Zevran was giving her. Still, she could almost feel his eyes on the back of her neck as they walked. The group made it to Lothering well before nightfall. The town was just as crowded as it had been previously, and they were once again lucky to get enough rooms for everyone.

Jessimyn took a quick bath, then went back to her room. She had first planned on just going straight to bed, but it was still early, and she realized what she would much rather be doing is drinking. The problem was that she didn't want to deal with Zevran or Kyran, she didn't want to deal with a crowded common room. Maybe if she bought herself a bottle of something and brought it back to her room... or would that look bad? But then, did she really care how it looked? Well, maybe a little.

She'd gotten dressed and was trying to decide what to do when there was a knock at the door. With a sigh, she went to open it, expecting Zevran... or maybe even Kyran. She certainly wasn't expecting Berton, who stood with his hands behind his back. She wrinkled her eyebrows at him. "Is something wrong?"

He smiled at her. "That's what I was going to ask you."

She frowned. "What do you mean? I'm fine. I was just headed down to the common room."

"Are you sure? It's very loud and smoky down there."

Jessimyn gave him a startled look. "Yes... it's the common room of an inn. They tend to be that way."

Berton nodded, still standing in front of the door, not making any move to get out of her way. "Yes, of course. I just thought you might want a little quiet this evening."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Jessimyn frowned at him. "I don't know how to make it clearer to you, Berton, but I do not wish to spend the night with you. What I really need is a drink... even moreso now, I think."

Bringing his hands out from behind his back, Berton held up a bottle and two glasses. "Yes, I thought you might. Look, despite what you might think of me, I _am _able to control myself. And I know we haven't had the full conversation before, but I have a number of rules... for myself." He smiled. "But if you're drinking with me, I'm not going to try anything with you. If you're drinking, I would see that as taking advantage. So you'll sit on one side of the room, I'll sit on the other, and we'll talk." She continued to frown at him, and Berton laughed. "Look, kitten. When have I ever been less than honest with you?"

Jessimyn just stood there, not speaking. She wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't want to go the common room, it was true. She did want a drink, away from the crowds. She just hadn't really wanted company, especially if that company was Berton. He smiled at her hesitation. "Or, if you prefer, I will leave you the bottle."

Jessimyn sighed. "No... you can come in." She pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. "But you sit there."

He grinned at her, and only then did he move to enter her room. As she shut the door, Jessimyn wondered if she was crazy. Was she really in her room, alone with Berton? She stood near the door, not moving for just a moment, and then she sat on the corner of her bed, as far from him as she could manage. If he noticed, he made no show of it as he poured them both a drink. Berton set both glasses on the table, so she went to retrieve one, then went back to her perch on the corner of the bed.

"Was there... something you wanted to talk about?" Jessimyn asked as she took a sip. It was brandy, and it was good, but it was also strong, so she resolved to go slowly.

"The king, actually," he said, and Jessimyn nearly choked.

"...What about him?" Jessimyn tried her best to make the question sound natural, but she failed.

Berton looked at her. "I'm wondering what your relationship with him is. Or was."

Jessimyn stood up. "Right. Thank you for the drink, Berton, but I think you should go now."

With a nod, he stood up. "If you wish. But please understand that I make no assumptions or judgments. I simply wish to know you better. To understand you better. I noticed your reaction to the news from the Arl this afternoon, and I thought you might want to talk about it. But that reaction, along with things you've said before, have made me wonder some things. Things that are likely not my business to know, but I wonder all the same.

Jessimyn frowned. "What things?"

Berton gestured to his chair. "May I sit back down, then?" She nodded, and he retook his seat. "I could understand surprise at the news. After all, we've all been led to believe that Grey Wardens can't have children. But at the same time, most don't usually try as hard as a king trying to produce an heir, so maybe the chances are merely slim instead of impossible. But your reaction was not one of surprise, or at least it was not _just _that. No, you seemed... hurt by the news. That, coupled with the fact that you said your brother had wanted you to be queen... I assumed at the time you simply meant he wanted you to have a higher station, but now I think you meant he wanted you to be queen opposite Ferelden's current king."

Jessimyn pressed her lips together. "He... did, yes. Fergus wanted me to marry Alistair, it's true, but at the time I was the highest ranking noblewoman in the nation, if you ignored the fact that I'm also a Grey Warden. Unfortunately, I couldn't ignore that."

"But then there's also what I overheard Kyran saying, in the library in Redcliffe. He alluded to the fact that there are also... feelings between the two of you. Are there?"

"You're very blunt, aren't you?" Jessimyn asked, not meeting his eyes.

"I am, yes," he agreed. "It's part of my charm."

"Does it really matter?" She asked, her voice harsh. "He's married. He's going to be a father."

Berton nodded and took a sip of his drink. "That's _why _it matters. If you're putting your life on hold because you're hung up on a married man, you're really only hurting yourself. You're denying yourself the possibility of happiness for something you can't have."

Jessimyn bristled. "Are you just looking for an excuse... a reason why I won't sleep with you?"

He chuckled. "No, kitten, truly this has nothing to do with me. Look, I'm old. I've been a Grey Warden for twenty-four years now. My time could come any day. Everyone always says thirty years, but that's just an average. I knew of a man who was only a Warden for twenty-six years before the nightmares returned, but I've also heard of someone who lived for thirty-four years before the Calling came. But we all have an expiration date, and I don't understand holding back when you have a chance at happiness."

Jessimyn realized she'd finished her drink, so she rose to pour herself another. Berton watched her, but he made no move as if to touch her, even though she was standing near. With her glass filled, she sat back down again. "Isn't focusing on our own happiness selfish?"

"It can be," he conceded. "But it doesn't have to be. If pursuing something keeps us from our duties, then yes, it's selfish. However, sometimes happiness and duty can coincide with each other."

"But usually they don't," she said.

Berton turned his glass in his hand. "So you gave up the man you love for the sake of duty, then." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not sure we know each other well enough to be having this conversation..." Jessimyn began.

"But that's _why_ we're having the conversation." He smiled at her. "Look, kitten... Jessimyn. I've known you for about a year and a half, but I don't really know you. You know more about my history than I know of yours. Besides the fact that you're a capable, competent Grey Warden, one of the reasons I wanted you on this expedition with me is so that I could get to know you better. We've made some progress, but not much, and it's quite likely we'll be back in Amaranthine soon."

Jessimyn sighed. "Very well," she said. Maybe if she told him at least a little about Alistair, he would leave her alone, maybe he would think she was in love with someone else. "Yes, there are feelings between the king and myself, but it doesn't matter. He's the king, and I'm a Grey Warden."

Berton set his glass aside. "It does matter, because you let it matter. Look, I can appreciate that you did what you thought was your duty, and while I would agree with you that it was a stupid decision to make, it is made. You can't take it back. As you said, he's married. He's going to have a child."

"I'm sorry, did you come here to talk, or to lecture me? It was not a stupid decision. It was the only decision I could make."

"Not true," Berton said with a shake of his head. "You always have a choice." She gave him a skeptical look and was about to protest when he continued. "I understand duty, Jessimyn. I do. But I also know that I wouldn't have given up Penny for anything."

"Not even if it meant..."

"Not for _anything_," Berton repeated. "Because Penny was the most important thing in my life. I gave up other things to be with her, but I never would have given her up. So it would seem that your duty was the most important thing to you. That's admirable, it really is. But you made the decision, so you need to accept it."

Jessimyn shook her head. "You don't understand, Berton. You married for love. Most nobles are not so lucky. I grew up expecting to be married off to a man I barely knew, one who was likely going to be much older than me, because it would provide some sort of advantage to my family. If love came, it would be years later, and the sort of love that was content and comfortable but not terribly passionate. So I did my best not to let myself feel anything for the men around me. I've seen what it's like, for friends of mine to fall in love with someone beneath their station, only to be told they had to marry someone else. I vowed that wouldn't be me."

She took another sip before continuing. "Whenever I found myself interested in someone, I would sleep with them. I realize that probably seems a little backwards, but it was a way of... guarding myself. So if I ever felt any sort of passion towards one person, I could say it was purely physical. Besides, I had a problem with allowing someone to have that sort of power over me, to fall in love with someone who pursued me because of my Cousland name."

"So young, to be so cynical," Berton said softly. "You're right, I don't understand that mindset. After all, marrying me would never get a woman anywhere, so if Penny wanted to marry me, it was because she wanted _me_."

"An assurance few nobles have," Jessimyn said softly. "But you see, I was brought up to believe that duty comes first. Well, that's not exactly true. _Family _comes first, but then duty. Then honor. Those are the Cousland words. I would have been betraying everything my parents taught me, to choose love over duty."

"But you mention honor as well," Berton said, his voice gentle. "How honorable is it to claim you've made a decision out of duty only to feel sorry for yourself that you had to make it? The choice was yours, but doing what you felt was right shouldn't turn you into a self-proclaimed martyr."

"How lucky you must be," Jessimyn said in a cold voice. "To live in a world where you have no regrets, where you've made no mistakes, where you've never questioned any of your own choices."

"I told you, kitten. I can see the end of my road, or at least I know it's there. I don't have time for regrets. Regrets keep you from living. You're still young, but when you find yourself sitting where I am now, you may find yourself with a new regret, that you didn't make the most of the time you had." He gave her a shrug, then picked up his glass and downed what was left in it.

Jessimyn gave him a sarcastic smile. "_Make the most of the time I have_ is it? So really, all this sage advice you feel compelled to give me... it really _is_ just a ploy to get me to agree to having sex with you."

Berton laughed. "No, it really isn't, but if it's nudged you in that direction, I wouldn't be disappointed. Though we'd have to wait for another night."

Jessimyn smirked and leaned back on her elbows on the bed. "So if I invited you to join me right now, you'd turn me down?"

He smiled. "I would, even if I thought your offer was serious. Though I'm committing that pose to memory, so I can picture you like that later tonight, when I'm alone."

Jessimyn groaned and sat up quickly. "Maker, Berton. I'm all for honesty, but you don't need to share every depraved thought that goes through your head."

Berton laughed. "Trust me, I don't."

"That's wonderful to know." Jessimyn shook her head. "You know, you say you aren't trying to judge me, but isn't that what you're doing? You don't agree with my decision, which is fine, but calling it stupid is not. Like you said, the decision was made, and it needs to be accepted."

Berton sighed softly. "You're right. I meant no disrespect. I am just used to the fact that it normally takes provoking your anger to get you to speak to me."

"That's what you think?" Jessimyn raised her eyebrows at him. "We're talking now, and you didn't have to piss me off to get in the door. Most of our real conversations have come from you actually treating me like a normal person instead of a..."

"...Fancy dessert I'd like to devour?" Berton offered, repeating back to her the words Kyran had used.

Jessimyn frowned. "That was a private conversation, one I'm sure Kyran would not have appreciated you overhearing."

"I had only just come in when I heard him say that, so I waited to hear his opinions," he said with a shrug.

"You think he's wrong then? You say you want to get to know me, but you don't really see me. Not the real me. You see... Maker, I don't know what." Jessimyn shook her head and stood to refill her glass. She poured herself more brandy, then filled Berton's glass as well before sitting down on the edge of her bed, closer to him this time. "I really don't understand your... fascination with me. We'd probably get along much better if you'd just give up your ridiculous notion that someday I'm going to fall into bed with you."

Berton gave her a considering look. "Perhaps. But I've told you before, I'm not a man to ignore my feelings."

Jessimyn nodded. "Right, of course. You're old, probably going to die soon, so you don't have time to waste."

"Now who's the one being blunt?" Berton asked with a grin.

"So would it be terribly blunt of me to tell you that I'm tired, then? And that I'd like you to go now? I had actually hoped to distract myself from thoughts of Alistair tonight, not strike up a whole conversation about him."

Berton nodded and stood up. "For that, I apologize. Perhaps my timing is not the best." He smiled at her. "I'll think up a better topic for tomorrow night, maybe one detailing exactly what it is I see when I look at you."

After he'd gone, Jessimyn finished what was left of her drink, and his as well. So Alistair was having a baby. Good for him. So Berton wanted to _get to know her better. _Bully for him as well. She didn't want to think about either of them. She just wanted to get very drunk. Luckily for her, she had nothing else planned for that evening.


	59. Jessimyn Chapter 59

Morning came and went, but Jessimyn stayed in bed. The throbbing in her head kept her from doing more than dragging herself to the window to close the drapes. It was still too bright, but she pulled the blankets over her head to block the light. The sun had been up for hours before she heard the knock at her door. With a groan, Jessimyn pulled herself out of bed, threw on a robe, and stumbled to the door. It had better be something good.

"Who is it?" She called through the door.

"It's Kyran," came the voice from the other side.

Easing the door open just a crack, Jessimyn peeked outside. Kyran smiled at her and held up a small tray, which held a loaf of bread, a pot of tea, and a large pitcher of water. Jessimyn frowned. "Am I on prisoners' rations, then?"

Kyran laughed. "I figured, since you haven't made it out of your room yet today, that you might be... a little under the weather. So, infirmary rations, perhaps."

Jessimyn let him inside, and he set the tray next to the empty brandy bottle. She saw him eye the bottle before setting it aside. Then, he brought her a cup of the tea. She took a sip and made a face. "It tastes funny. And it's lukewarm."

Kyran smiled as he took a seat in the chair Berton had used the night before. "Well, boiling water keeps the potion from working very well."

She realized the throbbing in her head had lessened, so she quickly finished the rest of the cup. Jessimyn then poured herself a cup of water and drank it before tearing into the bread. "Where is everyone else?" She asked between bites.

"Berton and Jandin were trying to find out if there was any news about other darkspawn attacks. I think they went down to the Chantry to ask around. Zevran went to go check out the shops in town. He asked that I look in on you," he said. Jessimyn raised her eyebrows at him, and Kyran grinned. "He says you're nicer to me than you are to him, so it would be safer this way."

Jessimyn laughed softly. "Well, the last time he burst in on me after a night of drinking a little too much, it didn't end so well."

Kyran glanced again at the empty bottle. "Just a _little _too much?" He gave her a concerned look. "Are you all right, Jessimyn?"

With a sigh, Jessimyn looked away. Zevran was probably right, in that she likely would have been irritated with him had it been he who was sitting in her room, asking such a question. As it was, she just couldn't get upset with Kyran. Maybe it was because he always seemed so earnest and sincere. "I'm fine, really," she answered. "I know you both seem to think I'm going to just fall apart whenever I hear something about Alistair, but I'm not. Hearing about the queen was a bit of a shock, yes, but it was bound to happen eventually. I don't really want to dwell on it, though. However, if you feel like chatting, we can always talk about you and Zevran..."

"Ah... no, ah..." Kyran stood up, looking flustered. "I'll leave you to get dressed, then."

Jessimyn felt bad as he scurried from the room. He'd only been trying to help. She knew that, but if he wasn't completely comfortable sharing his private thoughts with her, why should she let him pry into hers? Besides, some thoughts were best pushed aside and ignored as best as possible. Her robe was discarded, and Jessimyn dressed in a heavy blouse and trousers. She saw no one she recognized as she passed through the common room, so she stepped outside and walked in the direction opposite the Chantry. It was cooler than she would have liked, but not terribly cold. She'd only just made it outside the village when she heard a sound that caught her attention.

Sitting under a large tree was a boy of about ten years. He had his knees pulled up and his head tucked down, and by the way his shoulders were moving, it looked like he was crying. Jessimyn approached him slowly, and as she got close, he looked up quickly, scrubbing at his eyes, before he turned his face away.

"Is everything all right?" She asked.

It was clear the boy was trying to decide if he should pretend he was fine. "I..." His shoulders slumped and his head fell down again. "My mother's going to _kill _me."

Jessimyn smiled and went to kneel next to the boy. "I'm Jess. What's your name?"

He gave her a cautious look. "I'm Glyn."

"Is there anything I can help you with, Glyn?" Jessimyn asked.

Glyn let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "No," he said miserably. "It's all my fault. See, my mother sent me to the blacksmith to have our axe sharpened. I gave him the axe and the silver he charges for it, but when I went back a little while later and asked him for it, he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about. Then he said I was trying to steal from him and threatened to call the guards."

"Why would he do that?" Jessimyn asked carefully.

The sigh was repeated as Glyn explained. "My mother, she... doesn't have very many friends in town. They call her a witch, but she's not. They've even summoned the Templars on her before, but she's not a mage. She... she makes charms and potions, and some people don't like that." He gave her a sad look. "They come to our house when they need something, but no one wants to admit they ever need help, and when bad things happen, she gets blamed."

Jessimyn nodded slowly. "I have a decent hand at making potions myself, and one of my traveling companions _is _a mage. Neither are bad things. So do you think the blacksmith is doing this because of bad feelings he harbors towards your mother?"

"Probably," said Glyn. "But it doesn't matter. I'm going to have to go home and tell my mother I lost the axe _and _the silver. Oh, she's going to kill me."

Jessimyn smiled. "It may not be so bad as that. Come. Take me to this blacksmith. Let me talk to him."

Glyn looked hopeful for just a moment before his face fell. "It won't do any good."

Her smile turned into a grin, and not a kind one, as she said, "Oh, I can be very persuasive. Let's go."

Glyn led her through the town, past a number of small buildings, until they came to one at the end of a row. The sharp clangs of metal on metal rang out, and even without the large sign on the front which showed an anvil, it would have been obvious it was a blacksmith's shop. Jessimyn opened the door and stepped inside, only to be slapped in the face by the intense heat. The thick blouse suddenly seemed too heavy, but she ignored the heat and walked up to the man in the back of the shop. He was large and burly, though not quite as big as Berton. The sleeves of his dirty shirt were rolled up past his elbows, and he reached up to wipe sweat from his brow as she approached. The smile on his face was quickly replaced by a scowl when his eyes fell on Glyn, who did his best to hide behind Jessimyn.

"Glyn is here to pick up his axe, which should be sharpened by now," she said, a pleasant smile on her face.

"S'that right?" The blacksmith growled. "What if I ain't got his axe?"

"You've got it! You stole it from me!" Glyn shouted, taking a step to Jessimyn's side.

The blacksmith narrowed his eyes. "Lying little..." he grumbled, and he leaned forward, as if to grab at the boy. Jessimyn's arm shot out, hitting the man solidly in his elbow so that his grasp went wide as he was turned away from them. Jessimyn kicked out, hitting him in the back of the knee so that he collapsed. The blacksmith was quick, though, and he jumped back up as Jessimyn pushed Glyn back behind her. He took two steps towards her, trying to intimidate her by looming over her. Jessimyn was not impressed, though she was suddenly wishing she'd gone out in her armor.

"If you're not finished sharpening it yet, we can wait for it," Jessimyn stated, as though nothing had happened. "Surely you haven't misplaced it. I would certainly hate for word to get around the town that you're unable to keep track of your tools."

The man scoffed. "You're not even from 'round here. No one cares what you have to say, same as no one cares about the little bastard behind your back."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jessimyn said evenly. "The word of a Grey Warden holds a little weight, don't you think?"

"Grey... Warden?" The man's eyes got a little big at that, which was intensely satisfying.

"I'm Jessimyn Cousland," she said. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"

He stared at her for a moment longer, but he was the first to look away. "It's over there," he finally said, gesturing to his side. "Take it and get out."

Glyn hurried over to retrieve the axe, but Jessimyn held her hand out for it. She quickly inspected the edge on it before handing it back to the boy. "Thank you kindly," she said to the blacksmith. "Come on, Glyn."

They left the shop without looking back. While Jessimyn normally would have hesitated on turning her back on someone, she had little fear of the man. He was like so many she'd known before, a man who thought his size could get him whatever he wanted. Glyn was staring up at her as they walked away from the building. "Are... are you really a Grey Warden?"

Jessimyn smiled at him. "I am, yes."

"But... why didn't you... you were _nice _to him!" He exclaimed.

"I was polite to him," she amended. "That's not a terribly high quality axe, so you're likely going to need to get it sharpened again, if you use it a lot. Although it might be better if you learned to sharpen it yourself. It will save you the silver, if nothing else."

Glyn smiled. "My mother won't let me. Says I might cut myself on it."

Jessimyn ruffled his hair. She couldn't help it. His smile reminded her too much of Oren. "Well, run along now. I'm sure you have a use for that axe. Something your mother probably wants done today."

Glyn nodded quickly. "Oh, yes. I should get going. Thank you," he said before he trotted off, the axe held carefully over his shoulder.

It was after dinner that evening, as Jessimyn was sitting at a table with Zevran and Kyran, when she saw Glyn again. He ducked inside and scurried over to her table. "Umm... my lady? My mother... she would like to speak to you."

Jessimyn glanced around. "Is she here?"

Glyn shook his head. "No, she's at home. She... they don't like it when she comes here."

Zevran and Kyran looked at her curiously as she made her excuse and followed the boy out the door. His home was on the edge of the town, a small house set on a little yard surrounded by a wooden fence. Bundles of dried plants hung from the windows, and there was a pleasant, earthy scent in the air as they stepped inside. A woman looked up from where she was sitting at a small table. Her blonde hair looked like it was going grey, and her blue eyes were watery and a little too close together, but she had a lovely smile, which she gave Jessimyn as she entered.

"Forgive me, my lady," she said. "I did not mean any offense by asking you to come here, rather than going to you, but the owner of the inn does not appreciate my company in his establishment."

"Call me Jess, please."

"Jess, then," said the woman. "I am Hedy. I wanted to thank you for helping my boy out today. He told me what you did for him." Her eyes looked sad as she said, "It is sad, that we must rely on the kindness of strangers to deal with the animosity of our neighbors. I wanted to give you something, though. For your help."

"Oh, that's unnecessary," Jessimyn assured her.

Hedy smiled. "Please, I insist. Glyn told you I make charms, and I'd like to give you one. He said you know something of herbalism, so you'll understand this isn't magic." She held up a half-circle of a bronze-colored metal. It was engraved with strange symbols, though from what Jessimyn could see, most looked more decorative than like any runes she'd ever seen before. "This particular one is to help you detect if someone means you ill. If you're wearing it, and you touch someone who means you harm, it will let you know."

"Let me know how, exactly?" Jessimyn asked.

Hedy held the piece of metal near her wrist. "It will tingle beneath it, almost as if you'd stumbled upon a patch of rashvine. However... and you don't have to agree to this, of course, but I will need a drop of your blood to complete it. It's not blood magic," she said hurriedly. "As I said, it's not magic at all. But the blood helps to... tune the charm to you. Otherwise it would not work as well, nor will it work if anyone else were to wear it."

Jessimyn looked at the piece of metal Hedy held. If bent to form a full circle, it would be the size of a bracelet, which was how it was likely meant to be worn. She knew little of charms, and only a little more of blood magic, but she knew it took more than a drop of blood to do much of anything. Besides, the woman looked so eager to show her appreciation for someone who had shown her kindness that Jessimyn couldn't find it in herself to decline the offer. "I would be honored to wear one of your charms, Hedy," she said.

Hedy beamed at her. "Please hold out your hand, palm up. Your left, probably, if that is not your dominant hand." Jessimyn did so, and Hedy pricked the tip of Jessimyn's finger with a pin. She touched the metal to the tiny drop of blood that had formed on her fingertip, and it seemed to absorb it immediately. Hedy then quickly closed the metal around her wrist, then reached for a lit candle nearby. "This won't hurt, I promise," she said before running the tiny flame over the metal where the two edges overlapped. "There," she said with a smile. "It is done."

Jessimyn inspected the bracelet. It really was rather pretty, with swirls carved along the surface. She wasn't sure she believed it would do what Hedy claimed it would, but it was a nice piece of jewelry at least. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

"No, it is us who thank you, my lady. But I do not mean to keep you from your duties any longer," Hedy said. "Glyn, please walk her back to her inn."

When she got back, Berton and Jandin had joined the other two, who all looked at her expectantly as she sat down at the table with them. "What was that all about?" Zevran asked.

"Oh, nothing," Jessimyn said. "I helped the boy with... an errand earlier today, and his mother wanted to thank me."

Zevran nodded, simply accepting her statement, but Berton frowned at her. "What sort of errand?" He asked.

Jessimyn just shook her head. "It's not important. What have you and Jandin found out? Have there been any more attacks?"

Jandin and Berton reported what they had learned, which was actually very little. While the town was still very crowded, apparently there had been fewer people arriving in the past few weeks than there had been over the previous months. No one had heard of any darkspawn activity since they'd left Lothering before, and none of the travelers who passed through had mentioned anything either. Berton told them to all be ready to leave in the morning, when they'd head to South Reach.

It took about a week to get to South Reach, but they had no more news there than they had found in Lothering. It was all very distressing, really. It had seemed like they were really getting somewhere, only to have their trail go cold, and now they could find no new places to start again. There were too few of them to set out on a blind search, and since they had no leads, Berton conceded that they would have to return to Amaranthine. No one was particularly happy about it, as it seemed like they were just giving up, but what other choice did they have?

"We need to share what we found with the king," Jessimyn told Berton one day, as they were getting closer to Denerim.

Berton eyed her as they walked. "Why do we _need _to?" He asked. Jessimyn could understand the suspicion in his voice, but Alistair needed to hear about Lylimet and the wolf, and the ideas she and Zevran had come up with. But she couldn't really tell Berton _why _Alistair needed to hear it. Berton frowned at her hesitation in answering. "What is it?"

"He _is _the king, Berton. He is the reason we have Amaranthine, the reason we are able to support ourselves."

"Do you need to see him for Grey Warden purposes... or for more personal ones?" Berton asked, his voice soft.

"For Grey Warden reasons. And personal, but not in the way you think," she said.

"But nothing you'll share with me, either," he said, and it wasn't a question.

Jessimyn felt her temper flare. "No, and I don't have to. Nor do I need your permission to speak to my king. I was simply informing you of my intentions, out of respect."

Berton chuckled softly. "Very well, kitten," he said. "We'll go to the palace once we reach Denerim, to inform the king of our doings over the past few months."

Two days later, they arrived in Denerim, once again going straight to the compound. It was still early enough, so there was time to go to the palace that day. Jessimyn knew they wouldn't be staying in Denerim long, but she also knew it would best to get the visit over as soon as possible. As all of her things were dirty and more suitable for hard travel than a visit to the royal palace, Jessimyn dug through a chest filled with things she'd left behind in her old barracks. She finally found a dress she could wear. It was very simple, one Leliana would have turned her nose up at, but it was better than wearing armor or a filthy pair of trousers.

She took a quick bath, dressed, and pulled her hair back into a loose braid. The dress didn't quite fit like it once had, and it was tight across her shoulders and arms while it was a little too loose across the chest. That meant she'd been working much harder than normal lately, or she'd grown soft while living in Denerim. Either way, it wasn't the most flattering thing she could have worn, but there was little else to choose from. Berton was waiting for her, and he had somehow managed to keep a clean pair of breaches and a tunic set aside.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked.

Berton shook his head. "I just... don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before." He grinned. "Kyran, sure, but not you."

"Yes, and now you can see _why _I don't wear dresses. Come on, if you're coming." She turned and headed out of the compound.

Once the guards realized who they were, they showed them to one of the larger, more public sitting rooms and went to inform the king of their presence. Berton walked along the edge of the room to inspect the paintings hung on the wall, but Jessimyn stood in the center of the room. It was only a short time before the door opened, but it wasn't Alistair who entered. Instead, Lyrina strode into the room.

"Your Majesty," Jessimyn said as she offered a bow. As she straightened, she was startled by the look on the queen's face. It wasn't a pleasant one.

"What are you doing here?" She asked bluntly. The question surprised Jessimyn. While they had not spoken often, they'd always been civil to each other on the few occasions when they'd met. Of course, Lyrina certainly had a good reason to be less than civil to Jessimyn.

It was Berton who answered, though. "We are passing through on our way back to Amaranthine, and we are here to report to the king, Your Majesty."

Lyrina gave a start. Had she not even noticed Berton was in the room as well? Had she been so focused on Jessimyn? "I see," said the queen as Berton moved to stand next to Jessimyn. "He'll be along shortly, I'm sure," she said before going to sit down.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Jessimyn offered, but Lyrina just gave her a cold smile. The queen certainly didn't look pregnant, but she didn't know how long it took before a woman began to show that she was with child.

Berton touched her arm, then drew her aside. He placed his hand on her back, turning her so that her back was to the queen. His hand was in the perfect, socially acceptable place, where his hand would have been had they been dancing together. He leaned in close to her. "I take it you weren't expecting this?" He asked softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No," Jessimyn said. "She's never been interested in Grey Warden business before."

"I don't think that's why she's here," he whispered, leaning his head in close to hers.

"What are you doing?" Jessimyn whispered back. "And why are you touching me?"

"Perhaps if the queen thinks you have no intentions towards her husband, if she believes you are here only to talk about business... if she thinks your intentions are towards another, perhaps it might ease her mind." He was smiling at her.

"So, what? You want to put on an act for her? What exactly do you plan to do?" She asked.

That low, rumbling laugh slid across her as he moved his lips to hover near her ear. "Well, what I'd _like _to do right now is lift up that dress of yours and run my tongue up the inside of your thigh."

"Berton!" Jessimyn gasped and flushed a deep red.

"Yes, that's it," he said with a grin. "That's the reaction I was going for. The queen is watching, after all. Best she think we are whispering sweet words to each other, don't you think? So loosen your fists. If you want to hit me, you can do it later."

She was saved the need to respond as the door opened again, and Alistair entered the room. He took in the three other people in the room with a frown, his eyes lingering on Jessimyn for just a moment before moving to Lyrina's side. Berton still had his hand on Jessimyn's back, and while he hadn't otherwise touched her, she felt dirty.

"Your Majesty," Berton said, offering a bow that Jessimyn copied. "We are returning to Amaranthine and wanted to meet briefly with you to inform you of the things we've found."

Alistair said something softly to Lyrina, and she seemed to bristle. That she was so unable to control her emotions worried Jessimyn. She'd always known Lyrina to be calm and soft-spoken. But really, wasn't it only a matter of time before this happened? "I'll stay," the queen said, her voice a bit forceful.

"If you will forgive me, Your Majesty," Berton said. "I mean no disrespect, of course, but the things we must discuss are of a... violent nature. I'm afraid they may be distressing to a lady such as yourself."

Lyrina looked blatantly at Jessimyn at that, as if to suggest that Jessimyn were not such a lady. Well, that was fine. It was true enough, was it not? "Very well," Lyrina said, and Alistair helped her up. She whispered something to him before leaving, though she shut the door a little more forcefully than was necessary. Alistair watched her go before turning to the two of them, and Jessimyn saw his eyes flick to Berton's hand on her back. She took a step away from him, and Berton let his hand fall to his side as if had never been anywhere else.

"Please, sit," Alistair said, and they did.

Berton did most of the talking, and he told the king of the various places they had visited before arriving in Lothering, then of meeting the family that had fled their homes. Alistair seemed especially interested in the fact that Kyran had found evidence of magic use, but his face grew still when he heard about Lylimet, about how she had killed Joffey, then led them all on a chase across the south. When Berton mentioned the wolf, Alistair looked at Jessimyn. Had he so quickly made the connection that had taken her days to make? When Berton finished, Alistair said nothing, his eyes still locked on Jessimyn's face.

"I know you both need to speak privately," Berton said bluntly. "I also know it may be noticed if I leave the room, leaving you alone." With that, he stood and walked to one end of the room, again inspecting the artwork. Jessimyn and Alistair rose and moved to the other side.

"The nightmares just stopped," Alistair whispered to her. He spoke so softly that they had to stand very close. His fingertips brushed her back, though in a place just a little too low to be socially acceptable. "From your timeline it would have been right around the time you found that woman's body. What does that mean, Jess?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "I don't know. But that makes it seem even more like they had something to do with... her." Even whispering, she hesitated mentioning Morrigan's name if there was a possibility it could be overheard. It was silly. Enough people knew she had been one of their companions, after all.

"You think she's dead, then? That this Lylimet was really... I mean, we know she could change into all sorts of things," Alistair said.

"No," Jessimyn said. "She couldn't change into another human shape. I asked her specifically about that once."

Alistair gave her a little smile. "I know she was your friend, but do you still really think she told you the truth in all things? If she lied to us about her reasons for being with us, what else did she lie about?"

"I... I don't know," Jessimyn admitted, and she shivered. "But it wouldn't explain the wolf bites."

"Perhaps. You don't know how long the body was there, though. It could have just been a scavenger. Maybe not even a wolf," Alistair suggested.

They were standing too close together, and it was almost making her dizzy. She could feel his fingers on her back, and she wanted to move away from him as much as she had wanted to move away from Berton, although for a different reason. The look on his face was one she couldn't read. "So," she said, still whispering. "I hear you're going to be a father."

His hand fell away, and his mouth moved into a small smile. "Yes, so it seems. Though I wish I had been the one to tell you. Who?..."

"Teagan," Jessimyn said. "We passed him on the Imperial Highway on our way here, near Lothering."

Alistair nodded. "Ah, of course. Yes, he was here when _I _found out, actually. Who would have..." He shook his head and took a step back, so they were a more respectable distance from each other. "So, you'll... be returning to Amaranthine soon, then?"

"Yes," Jessimyn answered, her voice still only barely more than a whisper. "In fact, we should probably be heading back to the compound."

"You won't... stay for dinner?" He asked, gesturing with his hand to indicate Berton as well.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not sure I would be welcome."

Alistair grimaced, taking a step towards her again so he could lower his voice. "Lyrina, she... found the letters you had sent. She asked... questions, and I answered them."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Alistair. It's for the best, I'm sure." He just looked at her, and finally it was she who took a step backwards. "We really should go, though. It was good to see you."

"And you," he said as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, giving it the lightest of kisses.

Berton and Jessimyn walked in complete silence as they made their way out of the palace, but she could feel his eyes on her. Once they were outside of the gates, she said, "If you have anything to say, go ahead."

"The queen has not acted jealous around you before?" He asked.

It was not the question she'd been expecting. "No, she hasn't."

"She did not know of your past together, then? No, I suppose she couldn't have." He frowned. "So I take it, then, that your relationship with the king didn't end when he got married." When she didn't answer, he looked away from her.

"And you think less of me for that," she said.

"We've already established that our views on marriage differ, Jessimyn. I see it as a commitment of love between two people, while you see it as a political arrangement," Berton said, his voice odd.

"You _do _think less of me. Well, that's fair. I often think less of myself for it as well. But it _was _a political arrangement between our king and queen... not that I use that as an excuse, mind you," she offered.

"How sad and cold, the lives you nobles lead," Berton said, finally turning his head to look at her again.

Jessimyn attempted a smile. "I have no title any longer, other than Grey Warden."

"But you still have the head and heart of a noble," he replied.

His statement stung, and it was Jessimyn's turn to look away. She couldn't say exactly why it hurt, but it did. They walked the rest of the way back to the compound in silence, and once they got there, they parted ways.

"Jess!" She heard a voice squeal, and she looked over to see Leliana running towards her, Zevran and Kyran sitting nearby. Jessimyn couldn't help but laugh as the bard threw her arms around her, and Jessimyn allowed herself to be pulled over to the other two. Surrounded by her friends, she was able to push thoughts of babies, kings, and would-be lovers from her mind.


	60. Jessimyn & Fergus Chapter 60

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is split, with two different points of view, since I wanted just a little bit more Jess before moving on to something else, but there wasn't enough there to make a chapter of its own._

~**JESSIMYN**~

The trip from Denerim to Amaranthine passed by in a blur to Jessimyn. Her other traveling companions tried to coax her into conversation, but what she really wanted was to just be alone for a while. What Berton had said to her, about how she had the head and heart of a noble, had really distressed her. That's the sort of thing she would expect to be said of Fergus, but not of herself. She had always been the soft one, the kind one, but Berton did not see her that way. True, he did not know her well, but as she looked back over her life of the past few years, she wondered if he was right. And looking back, she knew the exact moment she had changed. It was the night she had accepted Morrigan's offer.

In that one moment, she had put the value of her own life above the value of anything else. And while it was true she had done it to save Alistair's life as well, at that time, their lives were so intertwined that she really saw them as one and the same. She hadn't really looked past the sex part for what it might mean, so if her friend had to sleep with her lover so that they would all make it through their fight with the Archdemon, so be it. But that decision, like the one she'd made not to marry Alistair, was already made and couldn't be taken back. She vowed, though, that she would do everything in her power as a Grey Warden to make sure that no ill would come of her dark deal with the witch.

Berton treated her no differently from normal, but it seemed like the way he looked at her had changed, especially when she wasn't supposed to notice him looking. It struck her as the way Fergus had looked at her, when he was disappointed in something she had done. She didn't like it. Jessimyn wasn't quite sure why it mattered to her what he thought of her, but it did. Perhaps it was because she hadn't wanted him to be quite so insightful.

They had finally arrived in Amaranthine late one evening, and Jessimyn had skipped eating so that she could take a bath and go straight to bed. She knew that they would be expected to make a report the next morning, but she hadn't been expecting the knock on her door.

"Zev," she said, surprised, as she saw the elf standing there, a smile on his face.

"You are all... cleaned from our travels, yes? I thought perhaps you might like some company, now that a little privacy is possible." His smile was easy as he leaned against the frame of her door.

"Oh, I... actually I think I just want to sleep," she replied. "I'm not sure I could manage much more than that tonight."

Was it her imagination, or did a look of hurt disappointment flash across his face before the smile widened into a grin. "Of course. You need your rest." He stole a kiss and was gone before she could respond.

Jessimyn shut the door quietly, shaking her head. Truly, she could have used the company, but remembering Kyran's words gave her pause. Surely, Zevran wasn't _really _in love with her. While she didn't think him incapable of love exactly, she thought him unwilling to entertain such ideas about anyone. She had thought him safe, an easy pair of arms to fall into when she needed someone to hold her, but what if that was no longer the case? As much as Jessimyn refused to believe the mage's accusations, Kyran was rarely wrong about such things, and the thought terrified her.

~**FERGUS**~

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as Bryce and Lyla sat on the carpet in front of it, playing. Fergus sat nearby, a glass of wine at his hand and a book in his lap, but his attention was on his children, whom he watched fondly. His wife, on the other hand, stood at the window, looking outside. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and while Fergus knew why, he still found it irritating.

"Sit down, Jenya," he said. "Relax. Staring out the window isn't going to make spring come any faster."

She turned and moved to sit near him, a smile on her face. "I know, but I think I can see some green starting to show on the trees. Surely that's a good sign that we can leave for Denerim soon?"

Since they'd received word that Lyrina was with child, Jenya had been preparing for their trip to the royal palace. She had insisted that it was her duty, as the queen's cousin, to be there for the birth of the first royal heir. Fergus wanted to be there in time for the birth as well, though for different reasons, but he wasn't willing to risk traveling in the snows to get there sooner. While it wasn't a long trip, the children had never been out of Highever, and their first trip away was not going to be in the cold.

"We'll leave soon enough, I'm sure," Fergus stated. "But you know as well as I that your cousin still has a few months to go before the child will be born. You're not going to miss anything by waiting a little longer. The last thing we would want would be to get on the road, only to be stopped by some late season blizzard."

Jenya let out an elaborate sigh and picked up her needlework, just as Lyla let out a cry. Fergus turned to look at the children, who were fighting over a toy. "Mine," Lyla shouted.

"She keeps taking my things," Bryce protested.

Fergus smiled gently at his children, then beckoned to his daughter. "Come here, sweetling." Her bottom lip stuck out, the two-year-old tottered over to him, and Fergus picked her up to sit in his lap. "How about we read some more of our book? Would you like that?" He asked as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

She smiled at him and clapped her hands. "Yes, Papa. Book."

Bryce looked up expectantly, and Fergus beckoned to him as he set his own book away. "Why don't you go get it, and I'll read to both of you." His son nodded and ran to fetch the book they'd been reading from. With a child on each knee, Fergus began to read, but he was only a page in when his wife stood up and began pacing by the window again. It frustrated him somewhat that she seemed so focused on getting to Denerim. She'd always been a loving and attentive mother, something that had made his affections for her grow, but her thoughts of late seemed to dwell only on the child in her cousin's womb.

It was not quite a month later when they decided the weather was holding well enough to make the journey to Denerim. Jenya was like a whirlwind, moving through the castle at blinding speeds, as though they had to pack every one of their belongings to take with them. But it kept her busy and out of his hair, so Fergus left her to it. All he had to do was tell Daynin it was time, and the man took care of everything for him. After all, this day had been planned in advance, and what good was a manservant if he couldn't handle the minor details like packing?

The trip itself took longer than expected. The children were not content to stay inside a carriage all day long, and while Fergus let Bryce get out and ride with him at times, Lyla was much too little to be allowed atop a horse, so they had to stop, to let both of them run and play. It was clear that such delays agitated Jenya, and when it became clear she couldn't be calmed, Fergus stopped trying. After all, she was the adult, was she not? But besides that, when it came to choosing between his wife and his children, Jenya never stood a chance, so she had to put up with the extra days of travel. The one consolation he made was not stopping in Amaranthine to see Jessimyn. Fergus had wanted to take another few extra days for that, but Jenya had asked that they press on.

When they finally arrived in Denerim, it was late, and the family was shown to their normal quarters, with promise of a meeting with the king and queen in the morning. At least Jenya had been accepting of that, knowing that the children were exhausted from the trip. Early the next day, Jenya had gone straightaway to visit with Lyrina, leaving Bryce and Lyla with Fergus, which was fine with him. Neither had been to Denerim before, so he showed them the gardens and the stables and all the other things he could think of that they might enjoy. He saw neither the king nor the queen until that evening, when they were invited for dinner.

"How lovely to see you again, Fergus," said Lyrina as she kissed his cheek. The high waist of her dress showed that her belly was only just beginning to protrude.

"And you, Your Majesties," he said, bowing to the royal couple. Both seemed a little on edge at his presence, and he wasn't sure why, but he would find out.

"We are in private, Fergus," said Alistair as he helped his wife into her chair. "You may call us by name." Everyone took their seat, and the first course was served. "How was your journey?" Alistair asked.

"Longer than we had hoped," Jenya answered. "Traveling with two small children takes more time than I would have thought."

Lyrina smiled. "Yes, you'll have to bring them to see me tomorrow. How old are they now?"

"Bryce is almost four, and Lyla is two," Fergus answered.

"My, so old," replied the queen. "That's hard to believe. How much longer did the journey take, then?"

"Almost a week extra," said Fergus. "It would have been longer, had we stopped in Amaranthine to see Jessimyn as I had hoped, but Jenya was so anxious to get here. Maybe we'll pay my sister a visit on the way back."

The look on the queen's face was one Fergus couldn't have missed, even had he been sitting on the opposite side of the room. Jenya, who was sitting next to him, squeezed his knee lightly as if in warning. It seemed he would have to question his wife about that later. "Yes," the queen replied coldly. "She and her Grey Wardens were in Denerim but two months ago, maybe less."

"Ah, so you saw her then?" Fergus turned to look at Alistair, ignoring the increasing pressure of his wife's hand on his leg.

"Yes," said Alistair, his face a mask. "The Grey Wardens informed me of what they had found, as they passed through from the south, on their way back to Amaranthine."

Very interesting. The king would not even say Jessimyn's name. Obviously the queen had found out about their affair, which would explain their strange reactions to him. Fergus patted Jenya's hand and let the topic drop, instead turning the conversation to the upcoming birth. Like most proud parents, Fergus was all too eager to offer advice, and they chatted about that at length as they ate.

"And the midwife you've chosen," Fergus said, after they had discussed a number of other things. "She is someone you can trust?"

Lyrina seemed surprised by that. "Of course. I mean, she has been very... attentive thus far, and she comes highly recommended from some of my ladies-in-waiting."

Fergus nodded. "That's good. But might I suggest, if you haven't done so already, that you move her into the palace until the birth? That's what we did with our midwife, the make sure that she saw no other women until our children were born, once Jenya's time was close. After all, it would be a shame for your time to come, only to have the midwife birthing someone else's child."

Alistair nodded slowly. "Yes, I hadn't thought of that, but perhaps you're right." He smiled at the queen. "Lyrina still has some time, but perhaps in a few weeks, we'll offer the midwife rooms in the palace." The king turned his smile to Fergus.

As they had talked, Alistair had seemed to open up to him, like he had been cautious around him for some reason at first, but that caution had now slipped away. When the dinner was over, Lyrina begged forgiveness for needing her rest, and Jenya went to check on their own children, leaving the two men alone. Alistair invited Fergus to join him for a drink.

"So," said Fergus, once they were alone. "How is the pregnancy treating you?"

"Pardon?" Alistair asked, looking a little confused.

Fergus smiled. "Oh, you know. Mood swings, tempers, tears. When Jenya was pregnant with Bryce, she seemed to cry no matter what I did. Tears of joy, anger, frustration, you name it. With Lyla, though, she wanted to tear my head off, unless I was rubbing her back or bringing her food." These were exaggerations, of course, but he wanted to give the king an opening to discuss the queen, and it seemed to work.

Alistair crooked a small smile. "Yes... well, I know you noticed her reaction to your sis... to Jessimyn's name. She has found out about our past and was not terribly pleased at the news."

"Ah," said Fergus with a nod. "I wondered as much. But surely she can't be jealous, can she? Why, Jess is not even here, and hasn't been here for well over a year... probably closer to two years now. But then... there is little use arguing with the woman carrying your child."

With a chuckle, Alistair ran his hand through his hair. "Yes, I thought as much, but I do what I can to appease her. In fact..." A strange look came over his face, and it almost seemed like he leaned forward a little in his chair as he spoke. "In fact, it didn't even seem to matter to her that Jess has Zevran with her, in Amaranthine as well as on this current trip, even though she knows that they are close."

Curious. Was the king trying to see if Fergus knew of any relationship between his sister and that damned elf? Was the king jealous of the possibility of such? Fergus tried not to smile as he sought to assuage Alistair's fears. "Well, I'm not sure she would see Zevran in that light. Zevran never struck me as someone my sister would really be interested in, and maybe the queen agrees."

Alistair leaned back in his chair, nodding, a thoughtful look on his face. "Perhaps you are right," he said.

"But this is not the first time you've had to deal with the queen's jealousy, is it not?" Fergus asked delicately. "Wasn't she a little green about your friendship with that bard... Leliana, wasn't it?"

Alistair laughed softly. "I suppose she was, at that. That is, until she found out Leliana was having an affair with one of her ladies-in-waiting. She hasn't felt too threatened by her since then." He shook his head. "But I suppose there's no use worrying too much about such things. I'm sure this will all go away, once the baby is born."

Fergus smiled at the king. "Yes," he agreed. "I'm sure it will."

Jenya was already in bed when he crept into their room, but she wasn't yet asleep. Fergus undressed quickly and climbed in next to her. "I think my knee might be bruised," he teased lightly. "What was that all about?"

Jenya rolled onto her side to look at him. "Did you know?... Well, surely not, else you would have told me. But I guess your sister and the king were having an affair, right under Lyrina's nose, and she never knew about it until just recently. She said that the king has tried to make amends, but she is hurt."

"I know Jess and Alistair were close before he became king," Fergus offered. "Are you sure it's not just that relationship that she's worried about?"

Jenya frowned. "No, I don't think so. She said she found some letters from Jessimyn to the king, although she said they were mostly about Grey Warden things..."

"Ah," Fergus interjected. "So maybe she found out about their previous relationship but is just jealous that they've maintained contact since." He smiled at his wife. "Not that she didn't have a right to know about it, of course. The king should not have been keeping such secrets from his wife. After all, what is a marriage if you can't be open an honest with your spouse?"

Jenya laughed. "Of course," she said. "As you are always open with me. I didn't know there was anything more than friendship between your sister and the king."

Fergus gave her a nod. "It was not something they wanted made public, as many of the nobles were pushing for the two of them to wed, before he married your cousin. I'm sure you remember that. But they did not want to marry, so they thought it best that she went back to the Grey Wardens, as she did. The relationship was then more or less forgotten, so I guess I never really thought to mention it to you."

"Still, I suppose I could see why Lyrina might be upset," Jenya said. "After all, I don't think I'd be too keen on you staying in touch with another woman you'd previously been intimate with."

Fergus touched her cheek. "Of that, you have no need to worry," he said softly. "There's no one in all of Thedas I'd rather have for a wife than you, and I have no need of any other women." _At least none that are still living_, he thought.

Jenya gave him a pleased smile at that. "Oh, Fergus," she said softly as he pulled her into an embrace. It was best to end this conversation now, he figured, and he could think of one particularly pleasant way to do just that.


	61. Alistair Chapter 61

Once Fergus left, Alistair made his way slowly back to his own rooms. As he changed into his nightshirt, his mind ran over the conversation he'd had with the teyrn. They hadn't spoken since before Zevran had come to him with his accusations about Fergus' involvement in the attempt on the elf's life. Alistair still wasn't sure if those accusations were correct. For one, they'd always gotten along well enough, and he found it hard to believe that Fergus would stoop so low as to try and have someone killed. But besides that, he hadn't reacted to the comment Alistair made about Zevran.

Wouldn't Fergus have reacted to the news that Zevran was still with Jessimyn? But not only did he seem unconcerned that the elf was still accompanying his sister, but he even downplayed their relationship, as if he thought nothing of it at all. Besides, Zevran's evidence against Fergus hadn't been very solid. Alistair sighed to himself. Or perhaps he just didn't want to believe it. After all, Fergus was probably the closest thing he had to a friend, besides Eamon and Jessimyn. He'd offered a lot of helpful advice about the baby, and it was hard to believe that anyone could be such a doting father and a murderer at the same time.

Alistair realized he was just standing in the middle of his room, staring off into space. Lyrina would be expecting him in her room. While he would have preferred to simply stay in his own room that night, he knew better. If ever Jessimyn was brought up in conversation and he failed to show her his full attention afterward, she accused him of... all sorts of things. Funny, how he had almost longed for that confrontation with her, when she informed him that she knew about his relationship with Jessimyn. Now, no matter what he did or said, she was suspicious and jealous, and while he felt deserving of that, for how long would it continue? Maybe once the baby was born. He kept telling himself that.

Lyrina was pretending to sleep when he entered her room. Alistair knew she was pretending because she always snored softly when she was well and truly asleep, but he played along and climbed quietly into bed with her. She muttered a soft sound and rolled to her side to look at him. "Oh, there you are. How late is it?"

"Not very, my wife," he responded. "Go back to sleep."

"Did you have a nice talk with Fergus?" She asked.

"Yes," Alistair said carefully. "It was nice to speak to someone who is a father to small children. Eamon tries to give advice, but he doesn't truly remember what it's like to have a baby around."

"I'd forgotten you two were so... close," Lyrina said, that familiar accusatory tone creeping into her voice.

It was everything he could do not to sigh. "I've known him only a bit longer than I've known you. Besides, wouldn't you want me to be close to the husband of your cousin? As close as you and Jenya are, it might make gatherings difficult if I found him unbearable."

She frowned at him. "Yes, that is true. Still... I wish he didn't have to bring _her _up." She peered at him. "Did he know about the two of you?"

Alistair felt a flash of anger, and instead of stamping it down like he normally did, he let it out. "Stop it, Lyrina."

"Stop what?" She demanded, sitting up in bed.

Alistair rose to a sitting position as well. "These games," he replied. "_Jessimyn _is Fergus' sister," he stated, putting just a little emphasis on her name. "There will always be a possibility that she will come up in a conversation with him. She is a Grey Warden, so she may come up in conversation when I'm speaking with other Grey Wardens. She is considered a hero to this nation, so she may come up when I'm conversing with other nobles. You don't have to like it, and I understand why you don't, but you have to learn to control yourself better when it happen."

"So you sleep with another woman, but _I'm _in the wrong because I don't like it?" She asked, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

"I've admitted what I did was wrong, Lyrina," he said. "I've asked for your forgiveness, and you've said you give it to me, but that's not actually true, is it? So tell me, what do I need to do? It's been four months since we first had this conversation, and you told me that you wanted me to give us a chance, remember? Maker knows, I'm trying. I've done everything you've asked of me, but apparently that's not enough. So tell me, what _is _enough."

Lyrina looked away, a pinkness in her cheeks that showed she was angry as well. "What would be enough would be if you could forget about her completely. But that will never happen. It seems like every time I turn around, there's something else there to help you remember." A tear leaked down her face. "And I hate it."

Alistair had never been able to stand her tears, and he pulled Lyrina into an embrace. "If there was anything I could do to take this hurt away from you, I would," he said into her hair. "But we're going to be a family soon, and I want this baby to be welcomed into a loving family. What would you have me do, that I haven't done already?"

She tilted her head up to him, her eyes wide and wet. "Tell me you love me," she said softly, her voice wavering just a little.

Alistair pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Lyrina," he said, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. There were more tears then, but the smile on her face should have made him happy as Lyrina hugged him tight. All it did was make him feel sick.

"I will try to be more... tolerant," Lyrina offered as she released Alistair from her arms and slid down until her head was once again on her pillow. "I will try to... oh!" She pressed a hand to her stomach.

"What is it?" Alistair asked, suddenly afraid, but she smiled at him.

"Your son is kicking," she said as she reached for his hand. "Here, feel."

Alistair sat very still, his hand on the slight bulge of her belly. After a moment, he felt a slight twinge. "Was that?..." He looked at her, and Lyrina nodded, smiling at him. "Maker..." Alistair breathed. In that one moment, the whole pregnancy seemed real, moreso than it had before, and he vowed once again to focus on the family he had there in Denerim rather than the one he wished he could have.

Two days later Leliana sought him out. He'd gone to visit his wife, who was surrounded by her usual group of ladies-in-waiting. Leliana was often with them, sometimes performing, sometimes just joining in the gossip. Alistair was sure she had another motive for being there other than simply wishing to socialize, but he trusted her. He only stopped in briefly, and as he went to leave, the bard excused herself and followed him. He raised his eyebrows at her when he noticed her at his side.

"The flowers are starting to bloom, have you noticed? Your garden must look quite lovely right now," she said with a little smile.

Alistair knew her well enough to know she was subtly asking for a private audience with him. "Actually," he said casually. "I haven't been out there in a while. Perhaps you would like to join me?"

"Oh, what a wonderful idea," she said with a delighted smile, as if that hadn't been her aim.

They walked to the garden together, Leliana making polite conversation the whole time. No one gave them a second look, as she was often seen in the company of either the king or the queen at any given time. Even once they got to the garden, Leliana made a show of examining all of the flower beds for growth before she moved to sit at the edge of the fountain, and Alistair sat next to her.

"I thought you should know that I'm watching him," Leliana said without preamble. "I know you must be civil to him, as we have no solid proof of any misdeeds, but if he does anything while he's here, I will catch him."

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Alistair asked, somewhat amused. "I don't think the teyrn is here for anything other than a social visit."

Leliana clicked her tongue. "You always were too trusting," she chided him. "I, however, find myself wary of a man who tried to have one of my friends killed."

"We don't know that for sure," Alistair began.

"You doubt me? And Zevran as well? We know more of such things than you. Even Jessimyn would be skeptical of him... well, were he not her brother, of course." She shook her head. "I suggest nothing so bold as what we did last time, but I will watch him for you."

Alistair smiled. It almost seemed as if Leliana was hoping something might happen, so that she might have a little excitement. "If you will," he conceded. "But don't expect me to bail you out, should you get caught somewhere you're not supposed to be."

Leliana grinned at him. "No one will catch me," she assured him, which made Alistair laugh.

The next few weeks passed by quickly and uneventfully. The finishing touches were put on the nursery, and Alistair took Fergus' advice and moved their midwife into a room normally reserved for a lesser noble. But as Lyrina got larger and larger, so did Alistair's fears. Could he really do this, be a father? After all, he'd had no father himself, not really. Eamon had been the closest thing to one, but even he had not treated Alistair as a father is supposed to treat a son. He ended up spending a lot of time observing Fergus with his children, as often as he could without seeming to impose too much.

"If you're going to spend every moment with him, I hardly need to watch him," Leliana told him one evening, catching Alistair by surprise as he was making his way back from the Cousland apartments back to his own rooms.

Alistair chuckled softly. "You seem disappointed," he observed.

Leliana shook her head. "No, not really. I've decided to watch the manservant instead. He's actually quite a bit more interesting."

Raising an eyebrow, Alistair lowered his voice as he said, "Oh? Have you seen him engaged in any nefarious deeds? Is he the one stealing all my cheese from the larder, perhaps?"

Leliana ignored the question. "He moves about the palace quite a bit. More than I would think he would need to, as most personal servants seem to be in either their lord's apartments or the kitchens. But he never tries to hide where he goes. It's just strange, how... active he is. He also goes into the city often," she said. "But he always manages to lose me before he gets wherever it is he's going."

Alistair frowned. Leliana had maneuvered them into a corner, where one hallway met another, so that they could see if anyone was coming from either direction. "Well..." He shrugged. "Maybe he just doesn't like being followed."

Leliana gave him a peevish look. "He does not know I'm following him. I am not so oafish as to give myself away like that."

"Then... why is he trying to lose you? Or..." Alistair grinned. "Maybe palace life has made you soft, and you're just not as good as you once thought you were."

Leliana managed to look offended by that. "Not as good... No, I do not think that is it. I think he is just trained to be circumspect. I think it is habit for him to behave so. And that says quite a lot about the man. That should make it quite clear the man does more than just pick out the teyrn's clothes and bring him his wine."

"And you are more than just a minstrel, Leliana," Alistair stated. "Some people are more than what they seem, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're up to something."

The bard gave him a too-sweet smile. "Yes, if only everyone was simple, with no complexity to them at all... like you."

"Hey!" Alistair protested.

"I will continue to watch him," Leliana stated, still smiling. "At least he provides me with a challenge." She turned and strode away.

_How very rude_, Alistair thought good-naturedly. He was the king, after all. Wasn't he supposed to be the one to get the last word? No, that never seemed to be the case.


	62. Fergus Chapter 62

Bryce and Lyla had been asleep for a few hours when Jenya finally returned to their rooms. As the queen got closer and closer to her time, Fergus' wife spent more and more time with her. In fact, Lyrina always seemed to have a gaggle of ladies surrounding her at any given moment, offering advice and encouragement. As if she was the first woman in history to ever birth a child. He didn't like it that Jenya seemed so focused on the queen that she was neglecting her own family. Of course, her frequent visits with the queen left Fergus with plenty of free time, which seemed to be filled increasingly by visits from the king, so he couldn't complain too much.

If nothing else, it pleased him that the Couslands had become so invaluable to the king and queen. He knew it was noticed by the other nobles, and while that was expected, as he was one of only two teyrns in Ferelden, he enjoyed the fact that more people tried to get his ear, knowing that he had the king's. Of course, he only pressed those things that would also directly benefit himself. He did nothing without a good reason for doing it.

"And how is your cousin today?" Fergus asked Jenya from where he was sitting in his chair in the sitting room.

Jenya gave him a tired smile. "The same as yesterday. And the day before. Nervous. Scared. Terrified, really. I'm so glad we came to Denerim early. She really needs me. Her other ladies are helpful enough, but it's not the same as having your family with you."

"I know Lyrina seems to require a lot of your attention lately, but your children could use some attention as well," he rebuked, and Fergus was rewarded with a chastised look from his wife. "They're your family as well, and they are used to you tucking them in and singing them a song before bed. I don't think you've done that in at least a week, and Bryce was asking for you tonight."

With a glance towards the children's bedrooms, she asked, "Are they already in bed, then?"

Fergus nodded. "Yes. Perhaps you can spend some extra time with them in the morning? Or if the bard is with you while you're in with the queen, you could maybe bring the children along with you. Lyla loves to watch her play." He gave his wife a smile. "But sit, tell me about the queen's worries. Have some wine. Daynin!"

The manservant appeared. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Get the teyrna some wine, and refill mine while you're at it," Fergus said, and Daynin bowed and moved to obey.

"Oh, she frets about the usual things," Jenya said as she sat down. "Being a good mother, of course, but also about the birth itself, losing the weight after the baby is born, whether or not she should use a wet nurse, which I think we've all finally convinced her she needs to have..." She continued on at length, but Fergus wasn't really interested in the queen's worries. The more he heard about her, the less he thought of her. This was the woman who was queen, when it could have been Jessimyn?

"Well, at least she is surrounded by such thoughtful friends, to help allay her fears," Fergus offered, pasting a forced smile onto his face. "But you know, if she's worried about the birth, and the pain, you should have some of that tea made for her. You know, the kind that you drank after Bryce and Lyla were born?" He suggested.

Jenya smiled. "That's a good idea. I'd forgotten all about that. I'll let her midwife know to..."

"Oh," Fergus cut her off. "I'm sure the midwife already has her hands full. If you remember what's in it, tell Daynin, and he will mix up some packets for her."

Jenya nodded. "Yes, I'll do that. I'm sure she would appreciate that. I'm fairly certain I remember all that was in it. But for now, I'm tired, and I'm going to bed." She stood. "Are you coming?"

"In a while," Fergus said, and his wife gave him a quick kiss before moving to their bedroom. He waited about half an hour before calling out, "Daynin." He only waited a second before continuing, knowing that the man would be there, even though he didn't hear him approach. He _never_ heard him approach, but the manservant's stealth was just one of the man's skills. "Tell me what you have heard this past week." It was their normal routine.

With a nod, Daynin began. "Yes, Your Grace. The midwife, Helene, is living in the eastern wing, as you know. She had been checking on the queen sporadically, but now she is seeing her every morning right after breakfast. She goes to Her Majesty's private chambers and is there always for at least half an hour, though it is usually closer to an hour. After that, her schedule varies. Usually she goes back to her rooms, but sometimes she will go out to the gardens. She dines with the maidservants of Lady Trinna and Arlessa Meggran."

Fergus nodded as he listened. "And the queen?"

Daynin clasped his hands in front of him as he spoke. "After her appointments with the midwife each morning, Her Majesty usually waits at least another half hour before meeting with her various ladies. Sometimes the king will join her for lunch, but he is often busy with court or with meeting with his various nobles. However, Her Majesty is always surrounded by a group of people, the teyrna usually being one of them. The king stays busy with his usual tasks. He meets with his various advisers, holds court, and spends a good deal of his otherwise free time with yourself, as you are aware, Your Grace."

"And the other nobles?" Fergus asked.

"There have been no others from very far away who have traveled here yet, Your Grace. The queen's father and sister have both sent word that they plan to visit after the heir is born. I still have heard nothing other than general excitement and relief that the child will be born from the lords and ladies in the palace," said Daynin.

Fergus gave a short nod. "Very good. And what have you found in the city?"

"Opinions of the king and queen are generally positive, Your Grace. There had been doubt that Their Majesties would ever produce an heir, and some have stated that they will need to actually view the child before they believe, but these statements are usually made in a lighthearted nature." He gestured vaguely with his hand. "As for the other matter, and what you wanted me to look for... I've found the three closest to the palace, and we can begin whenever you wish."

Fergus smiled. "Wonderful. I'll have you do the first run tomorrow, and then every three days afterward. We want this well established as soon as possible. You have all you need?"

Daynin nodded. "Yes, You Grace."

"Very good," Fergus said and waved to his manservant to dismiss him.

Fergus stayed up only a short while longer before joining his wife in bed. She wasn't asleep yet, but he was fairly certain she hadn't been listening at the door, either. Still, he was always careful not to speak in specifics with Daynin, lest she should hear something she shouldn't. After all, the less she knew the better. It wouldn't do to have her try and interfere in any way.

Jenya fell asleep quickly, but Fergus was not quite so lucky. His plans ran through his mind. Occasionally he wondered if he was doing the right thing, but he'd always believed that the ends justified the means, and the ends in this case were what was most important. Jessimyn might not agree with him, but she was always a little too soft for Fergus' tastes. It seemed like she too often forgot what was really important.

When he'd found out Jessimyn had left Denerim and gone to Amaranthine, Fergus had been upset. He felt that she placed her obligations to the Grey Wardens above those she had towards her family, and he felt her place was to stay near the king. The fact that she still had that damnable elf with her only seemed to make matters worse, but he could not worry about that at the moment. Perhaps he could deal with that later, once current matters were settled. Well, and with any luck, Jessimyn would be back in Denerim soon. However there was still a little patience required before that would come to pass.

Over the next few days, Fergus sent Daynin out into the city many times, sometimes to perform certain tasks, and other times just to listen for any news or gossip. If Jenya or anyone else noticed that his manservant seemed to be absent quite a bit, no one ever remarked on it. It was a week later when Daynin came to him with the first reports that there was talk going around town that something was happening, and only two days after that, the king came to him with the news.


	63. Alistair Chapter 63

The sound of the heels of Alistair's boots as he moved down the hallway seemed very loud in his ears. He looked around at the servants as he moved, but none gave any indication that anything was wrong. Maybe they didn't know... yet. It was only a matter of time, though, before word spread and panic set in. Likely by the end of the day, he knew, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere without seeing the worried faces of those around him. He did his best to keep his own face calm and free of expression.

He'd had to deal with a number of things in his short time as king. He'd dealt with minor rebellions from some of Loghain's old supporters, altercations between neighboring nobles who had some sort of disagreement with each other, rerouting grain and other supplies when there was a small drought in the south a few years back, but nothing like this before. All of those other issues were things he could actually do something about, but this... it didn't help that he was as helpless as his lowliest of subjects.

He stopped walking, realizing he'd come to a stop in front of the Cousland apartments. For a moment he wondered if he should even bother Fergus with the news. But then, as he already knew, the news would spread fast enough. The teyrn would know soon enough, if he didn't already. After all, if his manservant was spending as much time in town as Leliana said he was, it was possible he'd already heard the rumors. Alistair lifted his hand and knocked at the door.

It was actually Fergus who opened the door to him, which meant that his manservant wasn't about. It seemed strange to him, but what a man did with his own servants was none of Alistair's business, he supposed. He was shown inside and took a seat, waving off the offer of wine. Fergus gave him an appraising look. "What is it? What is the matter? You look almost as if you've seen a ghost."

Alistair gave his head a little shake. Perhaps Fergus _didn't _know then. "I've had some... bad news. Quite bad, really." Maybe he shouldn't have turned down the offer of something to drink. His mouth suddenly felt very dry. "It seems that... disease is spreading through Denerim. Quite a few people are sick. No one dead as of yet, but..."

Fergus frowned. "Disease," he echoed. "What sort of disease?"

"Cholera, it seems," Alistair said, trying to suppress the shiver that word caused to go through him. "Ferelden hasn't seen an outbreak in years. I was still at the Chantry when..." He shook his head. "Maker."

Fergus tapped his fingers on his chair. "Well, we must do whatever we can to make sure it doesn't spread to the palace." He leaned forward a little in his chair. "There are none in the palace who are sick, are there?"

Alistair shook his head. "No, none that I know of. But what I've heard, there are sick in most of the areas south of the Drakon River. It hasn't seemed to have spread north of the river... yet. Which is good, but..."

"That puts it close to the palace," Fergus finished for him. He pressed a finger to his lips for a moment. "I would suggest closing off the areas where there are sick people. Do not hold court or any other sorts of audiences until the sickness has passed. There's no reason to put those in the palace in danger."

Alistair shook his head. "You know I can't do that," he said. "It will only cause widespread panic if I refuse to see my people. Not that cholera doesn't cause enough panic on its own. Maker, why did this have to happen _now_?"

Over the next few days, the news just seemed to get worse. It seemed like every few days, there were more people getting sick, including two of the palace servants who tended to spend a good deal of their time outside of the palace. Strangely, though, no one was dying. It seemed like the disease was not as strong, or potent, as it normally was, and people were either recovering or just staying mildly ill. Usually, people got progressively worse. Still, upon consultation with Eamon, Alistair finally agreed that he should refrain from holding court. He didn't like it, as he saw it as cowardly, but he couldn't argue with Eamon, especially when Fergus had given the same advice. After all, if he became sick, how easy would it be for his wife and new baby to become sick? No, he couldn't risk it.

Lyrina, on the other hand, didn't seem to be worried about it at all. "Everyone knows that is a disease of the poor," she told him one night as they were readying themselves for sleep. "Only those who live in filth ever seem to get it, and it's much more common to affect elves than humans. I'm tucked away here, safe in the palace. There's no need to worry for me so, Alistair."

"That's not always the case," he'd argued with her. "Besides, if there is even one person in the palace with it, we are all at risk."

"I thought those two elven women were put out of the palace," she said, peering at him.

"They... yes, they are nowhere where they can come into contact with any of us, but still... Maker, am I not supposed to worry for you, for our child?" He asked, exasperated.

Lyrina patted him on the hand as she rolled onto her side. "Of course, of course. But only when there's a reason to worry. Now hush, let me sleep."

It was only two days later when Helene, the midwife, ordered Lyrina into seclusion, stating that she was close enough to her time that she needed to stay in bed and away from crowds of people. Nothing could have made Alistair happier, as it put his wife out of harm's way without the order coming from him. She still seemed to have her group of women around her at all times, though, with Jenya being the most common visitor. Leliana didn't seem to visit her quite so much, though. Apparently she was keeping too busy with her spying.

"With all this talk of disease," she told Alistair as they were sharing a private moment in his garden. "Why does the manservant still spend so much time in the city? He always leaves carrying a small satchel, but he never returns with anything. He's not fetching supplies, and the few times I've managed to follow him for any length of time, he even visits the areas most affected by the illness."

Alistair shrugged. "I don't know, Leliana. Maybe he's... trying to find out for himself what's going on. Maybe he's trying to help."

Leliana laughed at that. "Oh, I don't think that's the case. He never speaks with anyone that I've seen. Besides, if he was offering aid, wouldn't he be more... oh, I don't know. Obvious about it? Fergus does not share Jessimyn's goodwill towards others, and I don't see him as the type to help others if it wasn't going to benefit him directly, and especially if his good deeds were not going to be made public. No, it's all very strange indeed."

"Aren't you worried for yourself?" Alistair asked her. "If you're following Daynin into the infected areas, aren't you risking exposure for yourself?"

"I do what I must," was all she said in reply.

A thought suddenly occurred to Alistair, one he was surprised hadn't come to him earlier. "What if Daynin is, in fact, following someone else? What if there's someone out there who means the teyrn harm, and his manservant, who we've already established is more than just a man who helps Fergus get dressed, is doing his own spying?" At Leliana's skeptical look, Alistair continued. "Think about it. It would make sense. Perhaps he is not trying to evade you, not trying to make it harder for _you _to follow _him_, but rather is following someone else who is being evasive."

It all made perfect sense, now that he'd thought of it. Fergus was a powerful man, for one. Not as powerful as Alistair, of course, but he had his own enemies. There were still those who held grudges for what had happened to Loghain, and to the Howes. While those same people bore ill will towards the king as well, a teyrn was often easier to target, and there were few who were unaware of the friendship between the two.

"But with what he tried to do to Zevran..." Leliana began.

"I'm still not sure I believe that," Alistair protested. "We've already had this conversation a dozen times."

"You are too trusting," Leliana chastised.

"Yes... so I've been told," Alistair replied with a frown.

It was later that day that they heard of the first death. A small child, a boy of only seven years, had died. He had been one of the first to become sick, one of those who didn't get better, and he'd suddenly taken a turn for the worse. Death was common in cholera outbreaks, but the fact that there hadn't been any thus far had kept some of the panic at bay. As news of the boy's death spread, the panic level in the city grew, but Alistair was impotent to do anything about it.

They didn't know what caused the disease, how it spread, why it affected some people and not others, and this particular outbreak was even stranger than most he'd heard of. Usually it hit the very young the hardest, but there had been no babies who had become ill. That was at least one thing for which Alistair could be grateful. And where normally whole families would fall sick, there were many cases where the father would become sick, but the rest of his family remained fine, even though they were exposed to the illness more than most. No, it was all very strange and very worrisome. Alistair gave the orders to be kept alert of how many people were falling ill, as well as any deaths that might occur.

It was nearly a month after he'd first heard of the illness spreading, and he was in a meeting with Eamon and the captain of his guard. "Two more deaths," the captain said. "Bringing the total to five. For an epidemic that has been going on for over a month now, this is really quite good. It's not unusual to have hundreds dead within a week or two. Denerim is quite lucky, Your Majesty."

"Lucky," Alistair repeated. "I doubt the families of those who died would feel that way," he said, and the captain looked abashed. "But I know what you meant."

"Perhaps our efforts to keep it contained have been effective," Eamon offered.

Alistair just shrugged. Everyone wanted to take credit for the low number of deaths, but the king had a feeling none of them really had anything to do with it. He was about to respond when there was a frantic knocking at the door. The guardsman standing nearest opened it, and a servant stumbled into the room. "Your Majesty," he said with a bow, sounding out of breath. "It is the queen... the baby..." He took a deep breath. "The midwife sent me... it is time..."

Without a thought for his guests, Alistair jumped up and nearly ran to his wife's quarters. There were three of her ladies standing outside the door, all talking excitedly, and they all offered curtsies as he approached. "Your Majesty," said Jenya with a smile. He tried to go in the door, but they all held him back. "She's fine," Jenya said soothingly. "The midwife is in there with her. All is well."

Then came the waiting. Who knew that it took so long to birth a baby? The ladies came and went, other than Jenya, and she kept Alistair company as he paced in front of the door. Servants brought them food, but Alistair was too nervous to eat. It was hours before the door finally opened, and the midwife stepped out. "Congratulations," she said with a smile. "You have a daughter, Your Majesty. You may go in and see them now."

Alistair followed Helene through the door but stopped as soon as he stepped inside. Lyrina sat on the bed, and she looked exhausted, but his attention was drawn to the squalling bundle she held. The baby was all red, and her head was pointed into a cone. She looked more like a turnip than a baby, and he gave the midwife a worried look. "Do not fear," she whispered, low enough that Lyrina couldn't hear. "All babies look like that at first."

Moving to sit at his wife's side, Alistair peered down at the tiny thing. "You have a daughter," Lyrina said, her voice weak, and the king felt his eyes begin to sting. Lyrina offered the child to him, and Alistair nervously took her into his arms. She'd found her thumb and was sucking on it as she blinked her big, blue eyes up at him. A daughter.

For the next few days, everything was perfect. For the next few days, Alistair did nothing but coo over his child and dote on his wife. For the next few days, Alistair felt like he finally had everything he wanted in life... that is, until his wife fell ill.


	64. Zevran Chapter 64

It was lunchtime, and Zevran sat with Kyran in the mess hall. Jessimyn and Berton had just left for their weekly meeting with Herich, and they would likely be there for hours. Zevran didn't like that the two of them had seemed to become more friendly since they'd returned, any more than he liked the fact that Jessimyn seemed to actually care about what the man thought of her. Of course, what he liked least of all was the fact that Jessimyn had not offered to let him share her bed since that night in Lothering. Of course, Zevran didn't think she was sharing a bed with Berton, either, but that was little consolation.

They'd gotten word only the day before that an heir had finally been born. A girl, so it seemed. Didn't the firstborn child know it was bad form not to be a boy, Zevran wondered. After all, it wasn't highly likely that Alistair would be able to produce another. Of course, Fereldens didn't seem to care quite as much about such things, as daughters could inherit just as easily as sons. Jessimyn had taken the news in stride, or at least she hadn't shown much of a reaction when the bird had come proclaiming the good news. But then, she hadn't really been herself since they'd gotten back to Amaranthine.

Zevran and Kyran were chatting quietly when a page came at a full run towards their table. There were a lot of people in the hall, and everyone's eyes were on the page, who stopped in front of Kyran, panting. "There's been a bird... from Denerim... for you," he said to Kyran. "They need you..." He held the paper out to Kyran, who took it nervously.

Kyran read the words, a sickened look on his face. "I'm ordered to come to Denerim as soon as I read this, as quickly as possible." He stood up quickly. "I need to pack."

Zevran followed the mage down to where their quarters were. No one moved to follow, though many people were crowding around the page, demanding to know what was going on. "What is it?" Zevran asked once they were down the stairs.

Kyran shook his head. "It doesn't say, just that there's been an illness, and they need a healer." He went into his room and began stuffing things into a bag. "Should we let Jessimyn know? She may want to..."

Zevran shook his head. "No, she will find out soon enough, and if she wants to follow, she can. I'll go to the stables, have them saddle a horse for you." Kyran stopped dead in his tracks, turning large eyes on Zevran, and the elf grimaced. "You don't ride well, do you?"

"I... they'll want me there quickly, but I've never had a horse at faster than a trot... and even that..." the mage said.

Zevran just nodded. "I'll pack my things, then. There are horses in the stables which are big enough to hold both of us. You'll ride behind me."

Kyran's eyes seemed to widen a little more, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, but Zevran had no time to worry about his sensitivities. In less than half an hour, they were out of the gates of the keep, heading south towards Denerim. Zevran had taken the time to leave Jessimyn a short letter, and he wondered how angry she would be that she hadn't been informed directly, but when a message from the king came saying to leave immediately, that's what one did.

They'd heard about the outbreak of cholera a few weeks earlier, and no one had sent for Kyran then, so this must be something else. The fact that the message came only a day after the message saying that Alistair's child was born, that could only mean that either the baby or the mother had fallen ill. After all the worry about not being able to have a child, with the taint and everything that seemed to go with it, Zevran worried it would be the child in danger.

They had to walk the horse more than normal, as it was carrying two people, but they made it to Denerim in good time, only a few days after they'd left. They went straight to the palace, and the guards, who were obviously told to be on the lookout for him, ushered Kyran straight in. Zevran followed close behind, and they were led to the royal quarters. They ducked into a sitting room which was packed with more people than Zevran had expected would be there, including not just the king, but Jessimyn's brother and his wife, Eamon and Isolde, along with Leliana and some other noblewomen whom Zevran didn't know. Upon their arrival, Alistair immediately pulled Kyran into the ajoining room. Zevran couldn't help but turn his attention to Fergus, who was so blatantly not looking at him that he may as well have stared. However, it was Leliana who approached him and pulled him outside the room.

"What's going on?" Zevran asked, but she didn't answer him, instead leading him down the hall a little bit away from the room.

"It's the queen," she said finally, keeping an eye on the doorway. "She's fallen ill. Four days after she gave birth, which I guess is now about a week and a half ago, she came down with the same symptoms plaguing the city. Hers seems to be much worse, and her health has been failing fast over the past couple of days. We weren't sure she would make it until Kyran arrived."

Zevran frowned. "The queen... I was certain it would have been the babe. How's Alistair taking it?"

Leliana was saved the need to answer as they both heard raised voices coming from the room. The door opened, and Kyran stumbled out, and then the door slammed shut again. He looked shocked, but when his eyes landed on Zevran and Leliana, he hurried over to them. "He... threw me out," the mage said. "He..."

Leliana placed a hand on his arm. "Not here," she said, and then she led the two men down the hallway, then down a few more before they went through a door that opened to a small garden. It was hot, much hotter than Zevran preferred, but they found a place in the shade to sit. "What happened?" Leliana asked.

Kyran looked afraid as he spoke. "I... the queen is very ill. I checked her over, but there's nothing I can do at this point." He shook his head. "She may not last the night. But the thing is..." He lowered his voice so that Zevran could only just barely hear him. "...she doesn't have cholera."

Zevran's eyes widened, but Leliana didn't seem quite so surprsied. "What is it, then?" The bard asked.

"She... she's been poisoned." The fear in Kyran's face was so apparent that Zevran reached to lay a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. "That's why I can't heal it. The damage it's done to her is so extensive... the most I could do was try to make her comfortable, but when I told the king, he threw me out."

"You told him she'd been poisoned?" Zevran asked.

Kyran shook his head. "No... I couldn't. I just told him there was nothing I could do, and then he yelled at me to get out. But... everyone was so sure it was cholera. What sort of poison could mimic that?"

"Arsenic," Zevran and Leliana said together.

"The king of killers," Leliana said.

"And the killer of kings. Or queens, in this case," Zevran finished.

Kyran blinked. "Oh, ah... I see. But who..."

Leliana and Zevran shared a glance. "It has to be him. It all makes sense. It _all_ makes sense," Leliana said. "I've been following the manservant, who has been spending a lot of time in the city. He's been hard to follow, but the times I've been able to, he's always been in the places where the disease seems the worst. Why do I have the feeling that, if Kyran were to go see some of the people in the city who are sick, they'll end up being poisoned, too."

"What... what are you talking about. Whose manservant?" Kyran glanced at both of them.

"Fergus Cousland's," Zevran said grimly.

"Wait... you think Jessimyn's brother..." Kyran turned his attention to Leliana.

Leliana quickly told the mage about everything that they had found concerning the attack that had nearly cost Jessimyn her life, about their suspicions that Fergus was involved, with his manservant the one who carried out all the dirty tasks. "It seems extreme, but what if he's poisoned a number of people in the city to fake an outbreak of cholera, so that when he poisoned the queen, everyone would just assume that's what it was."

"But why would he want to do that?" Kyran asked, his voice soft.

Zevran gave him a sympathetic look. Sometimes it was easy to forget how innocent Kyran was. "He's always wanted Jessimyn to marry Alistair. Now that the king has his heir, he no longer needs his current wife. As far as Fergus would be concerned, anyway." He shrugged.

Kyran frowned. "So... what do we do? We need to tell the king..."

"Not yet," Leliana protested. "We need some solid proof before we go to Alistair. He's never truly believed Fergus was involved in the attempt on Zevran's life. We need to show him for certain that Fergus is involved in the queen's..." Her face fell. "Maker, that poor baby. And poor Alistair."

"So what do we do?" Zevran asked gently.

"Daynin goes into the city every few days. He just went yesterday, so we have a few days. Today, I'd suggest we pay some visits to the sick. We can go under the pretense that Kyran is there to heal those he can heal. He can see if they really have cholera, or if it's something else," Leliana suggested.

Kyran nodded quickly. "Yes. If they're not as sick as the queen, I should be able to do something, either way."

They wasted no time and set out into the city. In the areas that had been hit hardest, there were few people out in the streets. Most seemed very wary of visitors, but once they saw Kyran's robes, they were quick to point out the homes where the sick lived. While he examined the sick person, Zevran and Leliana asked questions of the other members of the families. Where did they get their food, their wine, their water. Did they visit a particular inn or shop?

It was very late that night before they made it back to the palace, and they'd visited over twenty families. Not a single one showed signs of infection, and all appeared to have been poisoned, though none as strongly as Kyran said the queen had been. They also all got their water from one of three wells, which just so happened to be situated right around where Leliana had seen Daynin go.

"So," said Zevran as they were all crowded into Leliana's small room. "The manservant is poisoning the wells. The people in the city aren't getting as sick because they're not getting as high a dose as the queen, but enough that they're having some symptoms."

"It's not enough, though," said Leliana. "We know they're being poisoned, but we have to have proof that it was _Daynin_ who did it."

"So let's watch the wells," Kyran offered. "There are three wells, there are three of us. You said the manservant always goes out in the mornings, right? So we head out at first light, each of us hide somewhere near the wells so that we can watch them, and see if he shows up." He gave an embarrassed laugh. "Of course... I don't actually know what he looks like."

Leliana and Zevran described Daynin as best they could, agreeing that if Kyran saw anyone who matched the description put something in one of the wells, that would be proof enough. After that, Kyran and Zevran went to the compound, since they hadn't exactly been given rooms in the palace, with the plan to meet Leliana at the palace gates at sunrise.

They were awakened in the morning with the news that the queen had died during the night. Kyran took it very hard, and Zevran felt helpless to do anything for him. He knew it wasn't Kyran's fault that he had been unable to help her, but the mage was still very upset. "Focus that energy on catching the people who did this to her," Zevran told him.

Leliana was a little late meeting up with them, saying that everything and everyone inside seemed to have come to a standstill. When Kyran asked about Alistair, she just shook her head. "I didn't try to go to him, but I'm sure he's not seeing anyone right now."

"But with..." Kyran glanced around them, making sure no one was standing nearby. There was no one even close, but he lowered his voice anyway. "With the queen dead, will they continue with the wells?"

"They have to," Zevran said. "If the cholera just suddenly goes away as soon as the queen is gone, it will look suspicious. No, they have to continue on with this charade for a little while longer, I think."

"And... if we _do_ see him putting poison into the well, what then?" Kyran asked.

"Well, then we will have enough evidence to take to Alistair," Leliana answered.

Kyran shook his head. "No, I mean... what do we do about the well? We can't just walk away, knowing that there will be people coming by to drink from it, people who will then get sick, people who may end up dying. I understand that we can't confront him directly if we see him, but we can't just leave, either."

Zevran frowned. What did it say about him that he hadn't even thought of that, he wondered? "We... cut the ropes holding the buckets. If people can't draw water up, they can't drink from it. That will have to do until we can speak with the king."

Kyran sighed but offered a nod. "Yes... I suppose that will do."

With that, they separated, each going to scope out one of the three wells they'd determined were likely the source of the poison. Zevran made it to his easily and found a place to hide that was out of the sun. He brought a hat with him, which he used to hide his hair, and he waited. And waited. It was well after midday before he finally gave up and headed back to the compound, where they all agreed to meet. Leliana was already there, but they had to wait another hour for Kyran to return. "If he didn't show today," said Leliana. "He's sure to show tomorrow. But tomorrow, we should each just head to the wells at sunrise. If we are seen too often together, someone may notice."

With that, Leliana headed back to the palace. "Do you think Jessimyn will come?" Kyran asked after the bard had gone. "Surely she got our note, though she likely wouldn't hurry here as quickly as we did."

Zevran shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think she will." He eyed Kyran. "You don't like being away from her, do you?"

Kyran ducked his head. "I... guess I don't. It doesn't seem right, for some reason."

"Well, don't worry," Zevran said with a grin. "At least you still have me." He was rewarded with the blush he was expecting.

The next morning, Zevran once again set out. There were even fewer people out than there had been the previous couple of days, and many homes and shops had black ribbons hanging from their doorways and windows as a sign of mourning. As Zevran sat in his hiding place, keeping an eye on the well, he allowed his mind to wander. He wondered what all of this would mean for Jessimyn. She would not take it well to find out that her brother had murdered the queen, of that he was sure, but he wondered just how bad it would be. While he had no great admiration for the man, Zevran knew that Fergus was the only family Jessimyn had, and she loved him dearly. It would break her, to know he had done something so vile.

It was before noon that day when Zevran was rewarded for his patience. A lone man came into view, and as he got closer, Zevran could tell it was Daynin. He was dressed in clothing one would expect of a lower servant, and he had a hat on his head, but Zevran knew him for who he was. He watched as the man drew up the bucket from the well, then cupped a hand in and made as if to drink. Of course, he didn't really, but Zevran knew that only because he was watching so closely. Then, with a deft hand, Daynin slipped a thin packet into the bucket before lowering it back into the well. He then turned and strolled away as if nothing had happened.

Zevran remained where he was for ten minutes after Daynin left before moving towards the well. He drew the bucket up and saw that there were just the barest remains of parchment paper in the bottom. Apparently he had used paper that would dissolve quickly in the water. Zevran glanced around, then when he was sure no one was watching, he drew his knife across the rope holding the bucket, which he decided to take with him. If he could get it dried quickly enough, some pieces of the parchment might still remain, and the more evidence they had, the better.

He was the first to return to the compound, but the others were not far behind him. Kyran looked sick, but Leliana looked almost triumphant. "We have him," she said in a whisper to the other two.

"Yes," Zevran agreed. "But now comes the hard part. We have to tell the king."


	65. Alistair Chapter 65

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just want to say that you all make me giddy whenever you leave a review, and I love getting that email that says a new one has been posted. Thank you all for the kind words. You keep me motivated and inspired to write more. Now if only I could find more hours in the day for it... :-)_

_~***~_

The room was almost entirely dark, except for the light seeping through the cracks around the doors. Alistair liked it that way. He didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to talk to anyone. The only person who was ever allowed into his room was Saira, the wet nurse. She would bring the baby in to him as often as he would let her, but the king wasn't quite sure what to do with the squalling infant. At least his daughter helped distract him from the reality of what was happening. His daughter... the girl would probably need a name, soon enough. But that was supposed to be up to Lyrina, as Alistair was the one who would have picked the name had their child been a boy.

Lyrina was dead. He knew it was true. He'd known it for days now... how many days exactly, he couldn't say. But still, every time he thought it, the realization seemed to hit him anew. His wife was dead. Sadness and guilt warred within him to see which emotion he would feel the most. It was bad enough that she was gone, but knowing she had suffered made it so much worse. Worse still, though, was knowing that he had not been a good husband to her. Why hadn't he told her he loved her the way she wanted him to? Why hadn't he, in fact, _loved her _the way she wanted him to? Why hadn't he kept her safe? Why had he been unable to protect her?

He so often wanted to cry, and sometimes he allowed it of himself, but it was not for his own loss. Rather, it was for his daughter. Alistair knew what it was like, to grow up without a mother. At least she would have him, but a girl needed her mother, didn't she? His precious baby would never even know her mother, would not even have memories to look back on. He held his daughter in his arms and wept for her loss, all the while feeling guilty that he could not cry for himself.

There was constant knocking at his door. Eamon had come, then Fergus. Jenya tried to see him, followed by Leliana, then Zevran. All were turned away. They all claimed they needed to see him, needed to talk to him. Everyone claimed their visit was important, but he wanted none of it. Strangely enough, it was someone he didn't know very well at all who finally got him to open his door, but again, his actions were based more on his own guilt than anything else.

"Thank you for seeing me," Kyran said softly as he was allowed into the room. As the door shut behind him, he coughed lightly. "May I... light a lamp, Your Majesty?"

"No," said Alistair. "But... you may open the drapes, if you must."

Alistair winced when the sunlight hit his eyes. He blinked, his eyes watering, but he finally grew accustomed to the light enough to see that Kyran still stood by the window, an almost terrified look on his face. "Sit down, Kyran," he said in a weary tone.

The mage moved quickly to obey. "Your Majesty, I..." he began.

"Wait," said Alistair as he reached up to scratch at his chin. There was quite a bit of growth there. Maker, how long _had _it been. "I feel I need to apologize to you. I was perhaps a little... harsher with you than I needed to be. I know it wasn't your fault, that you couldn't do anything."

Alistair watched as a bead of sweat rolled down Kyran's forehead. It wasn't _that _hot in the room. "Oh, ah... there is no need to apologize, of course, Your Majesty. But it is... that topic I wish to discuss." He glanced nervously at the door. "But please... might you allow Leliana and Zevran to join us?"

A weary sigh escaped Alistair's lips. "If this was all some plan of theirs to get me to talk about my feelings, you can forget it. I only let you in because I wanted you to know I don't blame you for... for..." He pressed his eyes closed for a moment, calming himself. "My wife's death is not your fault."

"I know that, Your Majesty," said Kyran, his hands grasping nervously at his robes. "But please... if Zevran and Leliana could just... what we have to tell you is very important."

Alistair stood and gestured to the door. "Of course, as is everything everyone _else_ has to tell me. No, I think I would like you to go now."

The king started herding Kyran out the door when the mage burst out with, "It wasn't cholera."

Alistair stopped, not understanding. "What do you mean? We all saw the... unfortunate effects of the disease. Lyrina, she..."

"...she was poisoned," Kyran cut in again, his breathing rapid, and he shrunk back as if Alistair was going to hit him.

Of course, maybe the mage's reaction was due to the balled up fists Alistair held at his side. But really, he felt like _he _was the one who'd been hit. "What do you mean?" He asked again, but if Kyran responded, he didn't hear it. The dimly lit room seemed to grow even darker. Poisoned. Poisoned? Who would poison Lyrina? She had no enemies, no one who would want to harm her. Unless... had Alistair been the intended target? Maker, was her death _his _fault.

"...Your Majesty?" Kyran was saying, and Alistair looked up at him with a start. "Please," said the mage, his eyes pleading. "Please, can you let Zevran and Leliana join us? They can explain everything so much better than I."

"No," Alistair said. "You tell me. Sit down." Kyran did as he was told. "Why do you think she was poisoned?"

Kyran sat with his hands in his lap, grabbing at his robe with clenched fingers. "She... I... when I examined her. I could tell it wasn't a disease... an infection. I could tell it was some sort of poison, and... she'd taken so much, there was nothing I could do."

"What kind of poison?" Alistair asked, surprised by how calm his voice sounded.

"Well, they said..." Kyran began.

"Who is they?"

Kyran glanced briefly at the door. "Leliana and Zevran. Please, if you would just let them..."

"Just _tell me what you know!"_ Alistair shouted, his voice filling the room.

Strangely enough, yelling at Kyran seemed to calm him, and he sat up straighter, releasing the death grip he held on his robes. "Arsenic, Your Majesty. Apprently its effects so closely mimic cholera that poisoning often goes unnoticed."

Alistair shook his head, not wanting to believe. "So... what? Someone just waited until Ferelden had a cholera outbreak to poison... that makes no sense. We haven't had an outbreak in Denerim in a very long time."

Kyran looked him in the eye while he spoke. "There was no outbreak, Your Majesty. It was all poisoning. Arsenic was placed into some of the wells in town, so that when the townspeople drank from them, they became ill. Not nearly so ill as the queen, because their... doses were much more dilute than what she must have received."

Alistair laughed. He couldn't help it. "What, so this was all some elaborate scheme to poison the queen? Or perhaps I was the intended target?" The laughter died, and tears threatened to replace it. "Why now? Who would do this now?" Kyran flinched at the question and looked away. That small gesture turned Alistair's stomach. "You know who, don't you?"

"We... yes, Your Majesty. But please, may I ask again that you allow them to join us? They have... evidence to show you," Kyran said.

There was no air in his stuffy room, but Alistair suddenly felt cold down to his bones. Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to murder his wife, only days after she had given birth. What sort of monster... "Yes, fine. Go get them." He couldn't say how long Kyran was gone. It may have been seconds, it may have been days. He jumped when the knock sounded on the door, signalling their return. Leliana and Zevran entered, along with Kyran, and they were both carrying large, wooden buckets. They both made as if to speak, but Alistair beat them to it. "Who?"

They shared a look, then Zevran spoke. "Fergus Cousland."

Alistair just blinked at them. "No," he said. "He wouldn't..."

"But he did, Alistair," Leliana said, moving to kneel in front of him. She took his hands in hers, but Alistair barely even noticed. "That's why his manservant kept going into the city. He was poisoning the wells. We all saw him do it." She gestured with her head to the buckets and told him of their successful plan to catch Daynin in the act. "Both of those buckets still have pieces of the dried parchment in the bottom, that he used to hold the powder."

"No," Alistair said again.

"I examined the sick in the city, Your Majesty," Kyran said in a soft voice. "Every single one of them showed signs of poisoning, not infection. There was never any infection.

One more time. "No," he said. "There's... no way. Fergus would never... why would he try to hurt Lyrina? She... she's his wife's cousin. And... maybe I don't know much about poison, but it seems like it would take an awful lot to poison a whole city."

"He's had years to plan it all out," said Zevran, and Alistair gave him a blank look. "He's still scheming to get a Cousland on the throne," the elf explained. "He never wanted anyone to be queen but Jessimyn, but she wouldn't take the job because she knew she couldn't produce an heir. Well, you now have an heir, so there would be nothing to stop her from becoming queen now... as long as Fergus was able to get rid of the old one."

Anger boiled through him. "Jessimyn would never..."

Everyone else rushed to talk over him. "No, no, we're not saying she had anything to do with it," Leliana said.

"She couldn't have known what he was doing," said Zevran.

Alistair held onto the anger. It was better than the nausea that was threatening. "He has been my friend and adviser these past years. He's been nothing but helpful and kind to us both throughout Lyrina's pregnancy."

"He had no way of knowing you'd call in a mage," Kyran said softly. "No way of knowing that said mage would be able to detect a difference between an illness and a poisoning. No way of knowing that his manservant, who he'd been sending out to poison all of Denerim, was already being watched. But we saw him, Your Majesty. His manservant, Daynin, put poison into the wells. Poison that has hurt and killed many other people in the city, along with the queen. All of this for his own ambition, nothing more. You said he was friendly, and he likely was. But he is dangerous, too, and apparently he's not afraid to hurt anyone who gets in his way."

"Yes, let's not forget he _did_ try to have me killed because he thought I was getting too close to his sister," Zevran said. "After all, his plan wouldn't work if she had reason to refuse to be queen when pressed. And he would have pressed her, of that I am certain."

Alistair turned his back on the three of them and moved to his window. This couldn't be real. None of this was real... was it? Perhaps this was just some new form of nightmare sent to plague him. "You're certain it was Daynin?" He asked.

"Yes," came Leliana and Zevran's voices together from behind him.

"The tea," Alistair said, nearly choking on his words, and he turned around again to face them. "Jenya, she... gave Lyrina a special tea. It was supposed to help her with the pain, after giving birth. It was..."

"I don't think Jenya likely had any idea what Fergus was up to," said Leliana. "In fact, I bet there is quite a bit about her husband that she doesn't know."

The coldness seemed to fill Alistair, making him numb. That was good, that was what he needed. "So what do we do now?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"If I may," Zevran offered. "This _cholera_ is still going around the city. I say we make sure that Fergus falls ill as well. It will be painful, but not so sudden that he won't know exactly what is happening."

Kyran choked at that and began to sputter. "You can't seriously be suggesting that the king poison the teyrn? No matter what horrible things the man has done..." He turned his pleading eyes on Alistair. "Your Majesty, surely Teyrn Cousland must be brought to justice, must be tried and then executed for his crimes."

"What about Jessimyn?" Leliana asked. "I'm certainly not saying that Fergus doesn't deserve to die for what he's done, but..."

Alistair looked away. Fergus certainly deserved for the whole nation to know him as a traitor before he died, but what would that do to Jessimyn? It would very likely break her, especially if Fergus had done it for her supposed benefit. He took a deep breath and pushed thoughts of Jessimyn firmly from his mind. Whatever was to be done to her brother, it had nothing to do with her, and he wouldn't let his feelings or worries for her affect his decisions.

"Kyran," said the king. "I would ask you to leave now. I'm sure you won't want to hear the things we need to discuss just now."

Kyran glanced at Zevran, then at Leliana, before nodding at Alistair. "Of course, Your Majesty." He left without another word.

The three of them discussed their options at length, and Alistair was surprised by how emotionless he could be. He was also surprised at how ruthless Zevran and Leliana were, when they had reason to be. When they finally decided on a plan, he turned to Zevran. "When all is said and done, I want you to return to Amaranthine, as quickly as you can. Jessimyn deserves to hear the news personally."

"So then when will you..." Zevran began.

"Tomorrow," said Alistair. "In the morning. As soon as I can get everything together." His eyes shifted between the assassin and the bard. "I want him to suffer," he said coldly, and Zevran rewarded him with a small smile.

"Yes," said the elf. "As do I."


	66. Fergus Chapter 66

It was five days after the queen's death when Fergus received a message from the king, asking for him to visit. As far as Fergus knew, Alistair hadn't seen anyone since he'd locked himself in his room, so it was a good sign that he sent for him first. After all, a man needed his friends in a time like this, and Fergus was eager to show just how supportive he could be. In a way, though, he was glad that the king had waited before sending for him. Fergus had spent most of the past few days consoling his wife. Jenya had taken Lyrina's death very hard, and Fergus had spent many hours trying to entertain his children, who were frightened by their mother's tears. Thankfully, only an hour earlier, Leliana had shown up, asking for Jenya and the children to join her in the garden, where she was going to be telling some stories. All three of them could use the distraction, he knew.

As Fergus strode down the hallway towards the king's sitting room, he wondered how long it would take for Jessimyn to arrive. Word of Lyrina's passing probably hadn't made it to the furthest reaches of Ferelden in only five days, but Amaranthine was close enough that his sister would have heard. If she hadn't made it to Denerim in a week's time, he would send a message, letting her know how much the king needed his closest friends in his time of grief. After all, it was possible Jessimyn might be hesitant to come right away, considering how things had been between her and the queen. Still, there was no sense wasting time helping Jessimyn and Alistair to see that they needed each other.

Not that he would push them, of course. Jessimyn needed a gentle hand, after all. She could be stubborn when she thought she was being forced into something, regardless of whether or not it was for her own good. No, he would be subtle. Subtlety and patience were gifts of his, after all. He knew he wielded the influence to maneuver them both where he wanted them to be. Really, the hardest part through all of it would be keeping his pleasure from showing to those around him.

Two guardsmen stood on either side of the door, but Fergus paid them no mind as he knocked. It was Alistair himself who opened the door, and the poor man looked terrible. He obviously hadn't shaved in days. In fact, it was quite possible he hadn't bathed in days, either, and Fergus did his best not to wrinkle his nose at the stale smell of the room. Fergus followed the king into the room, swinging the door shut behind him, and Alistair gestured for him to sit down. Alistair sat opposite him, his hand going for the wine glass at his side. From the collection of empty bottles littering the room, it seemed he'd been doing quite a bit of drinking the past few days.

"Some wine?" Alistair offered, his voice raspy.

"No, thank you," Fergus said politely. "It's still quite early after all, and..."

"Have a drink with me," Alistair said, his tone almost commanding. "I'm tired of drinking alone, but I'm not quite tired of drinking just yet."

Fergus gave a small nod of assent, and Alistair reached for a bottle. Upon finding it empty, he frowned, then went to collect another, new bottle and poured Fergus a glass. He didn't really wish to drink, so soon after breakfast, but the king was watching him, so he sipped at it. They sat in silence for a while, but Fergus was content to wait for the king to speak when he was ready.

"I can't believe she's gone," Alistair said after a long while, and his jaw twitched as if it was taking everything he had to hold his emotions at bay.

"It is so tragic," Fergus agreed. "I am so sorry for your loss, Alistair. We are _all _so sorry, but please know, that if there is anything I can do to help, I will do it."

More silence followed, and Fergus was surprised to see that he had finished his glass of wine. It seemed he no sooner noticed than Alistair was refilling it. He wanted to decline, but if it was important enough that the king would serve him himself, he was not going to argue. "I know it is hard," Fergus offered. "But you must take care of yourself right now. And your new baby, too. It's what Lyrina would want." Fergus saw Alistair clench his hands and turn away quickly. Maker, was he going to cry?

Alistair cleared his throat softly before speaking again. "It was just so sudden. She was perfectly healthy a week ago, and now... I just don't understand it. Lyrina was never even _around _anyone who was sick. If only Kyran had gotten here sooner."

"I know, I know," Fergus said in a soothing tone. "When he arrived, I was so hopeful that he would be able to do something..." In truth, Alistair sending for the mage had been a nasty surprise. He hadn't been expecting that, and he'd worried quite a bit, in the time it took for Kyran to get to Denerim. Of course, all that worrying had ended up being for naught. He sipped his wine. "It's only too bad that Jess didn't come with him. I know she would want to be here for you right now. That's what you need right now, to be surrounded by the people who _love_ you." He added just the slightest amount of stress to the word.

"How's Jenya taking it?" Alistair asked.

Fergus shook his head, the pain in his voice real as he answered, "Not well. She's completely distraught. You know how close they were. She's never lost anyone close to her before, which probably just makes it worse."

"Yes, they were like sisters," Alistair agreed. "I can only imagine how pained Jess would be, to lose _you_. Or you her, of course."

"Quite so," Fergus said with a nod. "I can't imagine. I don't want to imagine." He set his nearly-empty glass aside, knowing that if he finished it, the king would likely just pour him more.

"It's strange, though," Alistair said while idly running a finger around the rim of his glass. "Kyran said that, when he was examining her, it didn't even seem like she was sick. In fact, when he went into the city to try to help the people who had fallen ill, he said the same thing of them."

That caused Fergus to flounder a little. "How... yes, strange is probably the right word for it. Perhaps he's just never seen anything of this magnitude before. I know he's skilled enough in healing to have saved Jess' life, but then, maybe wounds are easier to heal than sickness?" He offered a slight shrug. "But then, I'm no mage, so I couldn't say either way, really."

Alistair looked at Fergus. "In fact, Kyran said it almost seemed like she'd been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Fergus gave him an incredulous look. "But who would have cause to poison the queen? Lyrina was nothing but sweet and kind to everyone."

"I know," said Alistair. "Only a monster would do such a thing." He looked away, taking a few more deep breaths to calm himself.

Fergus felt the need for calm as well. That damned mage... Well, there was no use worrying over it now. Besides, everyone had seen what Lyrina had gone through, and no one could possibly doubt that she'd died of cholera.

"But I was talking to Zevran about it, and he told me there's a kind of poison that mimics cholera," Alistair said, as if reading Fergus' mind.

Fergus frowned. When had the king spoken with Zevran? He had been so sure that none had gone into or out of the king's rooms, other than the wet nurse and the baby. But if he'd questioned the elf about poisons, he was taking the idea seriously. "Well," Fergus said lightly. "It wouldn't strike me as too terribly odd that your friend Zevran would know a great deal about such things."

"You mean you've never heard of it?" Alistair asked. "I've heard that, in Orlais at least, they call it _inheritance powder_ because it's used so frequently when someone wants someone else out of the way. Zevran said it's hard to detect, and no one suspects it. Apparently it's colorless and tasteless and dissolves easily in liquids. More wine?" He held up the bottle.

"No... thank you," said Fergus, a strange, cold feeling in his gut. Why was Alistair telling him all of this? He glanced at the nearly empty glass at his side, realizing that the king had been drinking from a different bottle. Was he being paranoid? Maybe just a little. He forced a smile. "I know you want to find a reason for Lyrina's death, someone to blame, but sometimes... bad things just happen. I know that is little consolation right now, but..."

"Of course," Alistair continued, as if Fergus hadn't even spoken. "Lyrina was in seclusion for over a month before our daughter was born, only surrounded by our dearest friends. It would be difficult to believe that someone close to us could do something so terrible. That they would slip something into her food or drink, then sit back and watch her suffer. Terrible." He took a sip of his own wine. "Oh, but I did want to thank you for that tea Jenya brought for Lyrina."

Fergus had a hard time swallowing, and he forced himself to meet Alistair's eyes. He noticed the twitch in the king's jaw again. Alistair was trying to reign in his emotions, all right, but not the emotions Fergus had first thought. Alistair was angry. Fergus had never actually seen him angry before, so he hadn't recognized it, but there it was. Alistair knew. He couldn't possibly know, but somehow, it seemed he did. It took everything in his power not to look at the glass he'd been drinking from. Was Alistair just trying to scare him into giving something away? Or did Fergus just have a guilty conscience?

"Your face looks a little pale," Alistair said. "Are you sure you won't have more wine?"

"No, I... think perhaps I have had enough this morning," said Fergus in a hollow voice.

"Suit yourself," Alistair said with a shrug. "But I shouldn't keep you. I know you're a... very busy man."

Fergus forced a smile. "I... don't have anywhere else to be. If you still want to talk..." He stood while he spoke, however, and it took everything in him not to run when Alistair waved his hand dismissively at him. The trip back to his rooms was painful, and Fergus felt the sweat dripping down his back. What was going on? Perhaps the king was simply trying to scare him into giving something away. After all, if he had any sort of proof, he wouldn't have let him just walk away... unless he'd put something in his wine. No, he wouldn't have. Alistair was many things, but he was much too cowardly to do something so bold as that. Fergus ran his tongue over his teeth. The wine hadn't tasted... gritty at all, had it?

"Daynin," he called out as soon as he was inside his apartments. It would be better to be safe, he figured, and he'd have his manservant make him an emetic he could take. "Daynin!" There was no answer, and Fergus stormed back to his manservant's room. Now that the main task was finished, Daynin was supposed to be lessening his trips into the city, so that it would appear that the epidemic was winding down. He shouldn't have been gone. He threw open the door to the room, but there was no one there. Fergus immediately went to Daynin's chest, but there were too many vials and packets that were not labeled, and he couldn't find what he was looking for.

"Damn it, Daynin," Fergus muttered to himself. "We don't have time for this right now." He rifled through the chest, finding the packets his manservant had been placing in the wells. It would be best to be rid of those as quickly as possible, and he gathered them into his arms. A noise in the hallway drew his attention, and he quickly exited the room.

"Daynin, where have you been? I..." But it wasn't Daynin standing there, giving him that hateful grin.

"What are you doing in my rooms?" Fergus demanded coldly. "I'll call the guards."

"Yes," said Zevran as he leaned against the wall. "Please do. But do not worry yourself looking for your manservant. He is... how shall I put it? Indisposed at the moment."

If Fergus had been wearing a weapon of any kind, he would have tried to run it through the elf. As carefully as he could, he tossed the packages back into Daynin's room, then he stormed to the main door of his apartments. "Guar..." There was no need to yell for them. They were all right there, Alistair in their midst. Zevran sauntered past him to stand near the king. His arms were full of the packages Fergus had just been holding. This was not good.

"What's going on?" Fergus demanded. "I will know why this... _elf..._" he spat the word. "...was in my rooms."

"I've actually decided you need some new rooms, Fergus," said Alistair. "Well, probably just one, really. Have you ever been to Fort Drakon before?"

This was not happening. Fergus barked a laugh. "Your Majesty, you can't be serious..."

"But I am," Alistair said.

"You would lock me up? Me, a teyrn, on the word of... an Antivan elf?" He pitched his voice low. "You are making a terrible mistake, Alistair. The nobles will not stand for this. And when Jessimyn hears about this... you think she will ever forgive you for wrongfully imprisoning her brother?" Fergus saw Alistair flinch just a little, and he knew then that he would be able to get out of this. Jessimyn would be the key. "Yes, she would be terribly upset with you. Look, if you no longer want my company, then fine. I will take my family and return to Highever, and we can forget this ever happened. I won't even mention it to my sister." With a quick hand gesture from Alistair, the guards began advancing on him, and Fergus bristled. "I am a _teyrn_! Your guards will not _touch _me."

Alistair gave him a cold smile. "Use whatever force is necessary to take the prisoner to his cell. And there's no need to be quiet about it. Let everyone see what is happening."

As the guards dragged him away, Fergus felt a sick twist in his stomach. _Had _there been poison in the wine? No, that was doubtful. But when it came down to it, did it really matter now either way?


	67. Zevran Chapter 67

As soon as Fergus was dragged away to Fort Drakon, Zevran gathered his things and headed to Amaranthine. He pushed his horse as fast as he possibly could, knowing he could switch it out for a new one for the return trip. The only thing he could really be worried about was that Jessimyn would somehow get word of Fergus' imprisonment before he got there. Of course, without Kyran riding with him, he could move much faster, and it would only take a few days to get there, but he knew a bird could get there faster, if one was sent immediately.

The look on Fergus' face as he'd been taken away was enough to keep Zevran's spirits up for most of the journey. He was only disappointed that Alistair hadn't decided to add a little surprise to his wine. Zevran had quickly agreed that they couldn't actually assassinate Fergus, of course, but he didn't see why they couldn't have at least made him a little sick, give him something to sweat about. At least Alistair had agreed to toy with him a little, to make him _think _maybe he'd been poisoned. And sure enough, Fergus took the bait and led them straight to his little stash.

However, the closer he got to Amaranthine, the more worried he grew about what Jessimyn's reaction would be. While he understood why it had to be him to tell her, why it couldn't be Alistair, he didn't necessarily like it. Would she even believe him? He knew she'd be angry. There was no doubt about that, but how else would she react? Would she rush to Denerim with the idea that she was going to save her brother? And how awkward would the return trip be, if she decided to blame Zevran?

He rode into the keep, straight to the stables, where he handed the horse over to a stablehand before going inside to find Jessimyn. He was immediately surrounded by people asking him what had happened with the queen. No one mentioned Fergus, however, which was good. That meant word hadn't made it there yet. He only gave a few brief answers before asking where Jessimyn was. He groaned when he was told she was in her weekly meeting with Berton and Herich. Well, if there was ever a reason to interrupt, this was it. Zevran strode up the stairway to the room where he knew they met. Their privacy was generally respected, so Zevran was pleased to see that the door wasn't locked, and he threw it open.

All three turned to look at him as the door crashed against the wall. "Zevran," Jessimyn said.

Berton stood. "We are in a meeting right now," he said in irritation.

Zevran nodded, suddenly nervous. "Yes, I am aware. However, I must speak with Jess immediately."

"Can't it wait?" Berton asked, and Zevran shook his head, but Jessimyn had already stood and was moving towards the door.

They had only moved a few steps down the hallway when Jessimyn stopped him. "What is it, Zev? We heard about the queen," she said, her voice filled with sympathy. "Is it something else? Maker, tell me it's not the baby, too."

Zevran shook his head. "No, the child is well. It's... it's something else, Jess." He paused, trying to think of how to continue. All his thinking about it over the past few days hadn't given him a clue on how to proceed. He wanted to be gentle, but there was really no way to do that.

"Just tell me, Zev," Jessimyn said, a worried look in her eyes.

"It's Fergus," he began.

"Oh no," she gasped. "He's not sick, too, is he?"

Zevran shook his head. "Not physically, no." Jessimyn gave him a confused look. "He... he's in Fort Drakon, Jess. For poisoning the queen."

Jessimyn took a step back, disbelief clear on her face. "That isn't funny, Zev," she said.

"You're right," he agreed. "It's not. Maker knows, Jess, I don't want to have to tell you this. But Fergus is responsible for the queen's death. He gave her a lethal dose of arsenic, to make it look like she had cholera."

Jessimyn just shook her head, back and forth. "No, you're wrong. Fergus would never do something like that."

"Jess," said Zevran. "We saw..."

"No!" Jessimyn shouted, cutting him off. Zevran could see that her hands were trembling. "No," she said again, quieter this time. "Fergus and Alistair are friends. Why would Alistair believe such horrible things about him?"

"Because they are true," Zevran said carefully. "He gave the queen poisoned tea. His manservant, Daynin, put poison into many of Denerim's wells, so that it would appear that the whole city was affected. He had enormous amounts of arsenic in his apartments, Jess."

"I don't believe it," she said, but her voice sounded hollow. "I... it has to be some sort of... he would never do something like that. Fergus is a good man. You don't know him like I do."

"I'm afraid you're the one who doesn't really know him, Jess," Zevran said.

Jessimyn's eyes narrowed. "How dare you."

Zevran sighed. "I do not wish to fight with you or make you angry. I came here as quickly as I could, to make sure you heard the news firsthand, rather than..."

"Don't pretend that you're just the messenger, Zev," she spat. "You've obviously already made up your mind about him, without even giving him a chance."

"Obviously, the thing to do is to get you to Denerim as quickly as possible," said Berton from where he was standing near the doorway of the meeting room. Jessimyn and Zevran both looked at him, and he glided over to stand next to her. "Go pack your things, kitten. Zevran here will run to the stables and have them ready your horse." And just like that, she nodded and hurried off. Zevran watched her go, trying not to sigh. "Have them ready my horse as well," Berton said.

Zevran eyed the man. "You can't be serious. There is... no need for you to trouble yourself so."

"Seems Jessimyn could use all the friends she's got right about now, wouldn't you say?" He shrugged at Zevran. "And it doesn't seem like she's too happy with you at the moment."

Zevran took a step closer to Berton. "You do her no favors by allowing her to believe a lie. Her brother _is _guilty, and he _will _be executed for it."

"You are so certain?" Berton asked.

This time Zevran did sigh. "Why would I put her through any of this if I wasn't?"

Berton gave him an appraising look before he nodded. "Fair enough. I will meet you in the stables shortly." Without another word, he left to go to his room, presumably to pack.

As much as Zevran disliked Berton's company, perhaps the man had a point. If nothing else, Zevran was not in the mood to argue, so he went back to the stables and ordered a stablehand to saddle the three horses.

"But..." The boy stammered. "Your horse is not ready for another journey so soon."

Zevran gave him an irritated look. "Yes, that much is obvious. I will need a _different _horse, and you must ready horses for Jessimyn and Berton." His lips quirked into a smile. "Are there even horses here big enough to carry that ogre of a man? Perhaps you have some sort of horse-oxen mixed breed?"

The stableboy gave a nervous chuckle as he hurried to get three horses ready to ride. Berton showed up first, though Jessimyn arrived shortly thereafter. She gave him a look but didn't ask why he was accompanying them. It was just another sign to Zevran that they were becoming too friendly. What could she possibly find appealing about the man?

Over the next couple days, Jessimyn only seemed to speak when she was urging them to hurry. In that point at least, Berton and Zevran agreed. They could not push the horses as much as she wanted them to. It would do none of them any good to have them drop dead a day outside of Denerim. She refused to stop before it was full dark, even trying to push them on, as the moon was nearly full and there was decent light. Once they stopped, she went straight to her tent, only eating when Zevran forced her to.

At night, Zevran would listen for any sound coming from her tent. He'd been with her often enough when things were going wrong in her life to know she liked to cry in private, but he never heard a sound. He almost would have preferred to see her sobbing than to see the glazed, distant look in her eyes. He knew the look, knew what it meant. Something inside her was breaking, and it was nothing he could fix.

At sunset of their fourth day of travel, Berton and Zevran reined in their horses, but Jessimyn kept going. They called to her, but either she didn't hear, or she was ignoring them, and they had to push their horses hard to catch up. "Jess," Zevran said. "We need to stop now."

She didn't even turn to look at him. "No," she said, her voice hoarse. "I know where we are. We're only a few hours from Denerim. I'm not stopping when we're so close."

"Jessimyn," Berton began, but she cut him off.

"I'm not stopping," she repeated. "Fergus wouldn't stop, if it was me in prison. He'd keep going, and so will I."

There was nothing either of them could say to that, so they followed, managing to keep her at an almost-safe pace. It was after midnight when they passed through Denerim's gates, and Jessimyn made as if to head straight for the palace.

"Jessimyn," Berton said as he grabbed the reins from her hands to stop her horse. "It's the middle of the night. The guards won't even let us inside, and they _certainly _won't let you anywhere near Fort Drakon. We're going to the compound. You need some sleep."

"And food," Zevran said. "And a bath. Berton will get you something to eat, and I will start some water warming for you." She just gave him a blank look, and he sighed, hating himself for what he was about to say. "You wouldn't want Fergus to see you, looking as you do now. Eat, bathe, get some sleep, and we can go to the palace first thing in the morning."

That seemed to do it, and Jessimyn let herself be led around the compound. Now that they were in Denerim, Zevran had thought she would be more revived, but the opposite seemed to be true. After she'd eaten, Zevran followed her to the bath house, where he sat outside the door. He must have dozed, because he came to and glanced at the moon to see an hour had passed. He rose and knocked on the door. "Jess?" He called. There was no answer. "Jessimyn." Still nothing. A flash of fear went through him, and he went inside quickly. She was sitting in the tub, her knees pulled up to her chest, shivering.

Zevran went to kneel beside her. "Jess," he tried again, and she turned her head slowly to look at him. "Come on," he said gently. "Time you got some sleep." He helped her out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her. He walked at her side as they went back to her bedroom, and once Jessimyn was in bed, Zevran went to lie down on the couch in her old sitting room. He wasn't afraid anything might happen in the night. Well, not really anyway, but he had a feeling that if she woke up before he did, she would go to the palace without him, and he knew he couldn't let her do that.

In the morning, Jessimyn seemed a little more like her self. A little. At least she was speaking and making eye contact. Berton did not offer to join them in going to the palace, and Jessimyn did not ask him to accompany them, which suited Zevran just fine. Once they got there, they were immediately shown to one of Alistair's private sitting rooms. Jessimyn seemed to grow agitated as they waited, but soon enough, Leliana and Kyran arrived, shortly followed by Alistair. Two of his guardsmen entered the room with him, stationing themselves by the door. That seemed to trigger something in Jessimyn.

"Am I not to be trusted around you, then?" She demanded of the king.

"Not until I know how you're going to react," was Alistair's reply.

"Yes," she said with a harsh laugh. "How strange, that I might be angry that you've thrown my _brother _in prison."

"Jess," said Alistair as he took a few steps towards her, wisely stopping before he got too close. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, truly I am. But who he is doesn't matter at all when compared to what he has done."

Jessimyn turned her accusatory eyes on each of them in turn. "Why are you doing this?"

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "Fergus murdered my wife. What he has done is worse than the crimes we condemned Loghain and Howe for."

"Do not compare him to those monsters," Jessimyn said, her voice wavering.

"But he's a monster, too," said Kyran, and everyone turned to look at him. The mage glanced at Zevran, who nodded at him to continue. If anyone could get Jessimyn to listen to reason, it was Kyran. He was not so intimately involved as the others, but Jessimyn trusted him. Zevran knew she might be able to find reasons in her mind as to why the others would lie to her, but not Kyran. "We saw his manservant put poison into the wells in Denerim, Jessimyn. Wells that are used by hundreds of people every day. The poison was made to mimic the disease, but I've examined every sick person I could find. None of them are diseased. People have died, Jessimyn, and not just the queen. He's killed people who had nothing to do with any of this, so he could cover up his murder." Kyran walked towards Jessimyn, who Zevran could see was trembling.

"But why?" Jessimyn asked, her voice cracking a bit, and Kyran subtly maneuvered her so that she fell gracefully onto a chair. She made a show of taking several deep breaths. "What are you going to do with him?" She asked, her voice almost pitiful, as she looked up at Alistair.

Alistair scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "What did we do to Loghain and Howe?"

Jessimyn jumped out of her chair and took two steps towards the king. His guardsmen moved forward quickly, but Alistair held up a hand to keep them from grabbing her. "You can't," she begged. "He's my brother."

"He _murdered _my _wife_!" Alistair shouted. "He took away my child's mother! And he's killed multiple other innocents along the way. I don't care whohe is to you. This has nothing to do with you, Jess. Fergus is guilty, and his punishment will fit his crimes."

They stared at each other, and Zevran almost wondered if they had forgotten there were other people in the room. Zevran cleared his throat softly, and Alistair glanced over at him. "Leave us, all of you," he commanded. "Jessimyn and I will speak in private."

His guardsmen balked at that, but Alistair was insistent. They turned and exited the room, and Leliana, Kyran, and Zevran could do nothing but follow. For once, Zevran was not jealous that he was not the one alone with her. If she was going to break into pieces, he certainly didn't want to watch. Not when there was nothing he could do about it.


	68. Alistair Chapter 68

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this chapter is so short. The original plan was that it would be combined with what will now be the next chapter, but I want to post something today, and a short chapter is better than none, right? It's funny, but this chapter and the next couple that are coming have been practically written in my head for months, but now that it's finally time to set them to paper (and by paper, I mean computer screen), I'm finding it harder than I thought. But then, I'm my own worst critic. As always, thank you all so much for reading and for all the reviews. _

_~***~_

Alistair watched everyone leave the room, and only once the door closed did he turn his attention back to Jessimyn. She had her arms wrapped around herself, almost as if she was cold, even though the room was rather warm. Her gaze was in his direction, but it didn't seem like it was focused on anything. In fact, it seemed like she was looking through him rather than at him. Alistair wanted to close the distance between them, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her. He hadn't wanted to send everyone away, but if they were going to yell at each other, he certainly didn't want an audience.

The last place he wanted to be just then was alone with her. There were too many things that bothered him about the whole situation. One was that it seemed so familiar. It reminded him too much of Loghain's betrayal. But this time Jessimyn, the woman who had helped him through his grief over losing Duncan, was on the other side of things. This time it was she who would be the one grieving, but for the betrayer instead of the betrayed. And that was another thing that bothered Alistair. He knew that her pain at losing Fergus would likely be worse than what he had felt at losing Lyrina. It made him feel guilty to know that the death of Lyrina's murderer would be mourned more than her own was.

But then there was the matter of Jessimyn herself. Part of him wanted to comfort her. It pierced him deeply to know that Fergus' death would be a terrible blow to her. Of course, the other part of him was furious with her because she refused to see what was right before her. Of course, he'd been blind to Fergus' treachery, too, but not when the proof was staring him in the face.

"Sit down, Jess," he said, and her eyes seemed to focus in on him before she sat back down. Alistair grabbed another chair and pulled it so that he could sit facing her. "You know I wouldn't have put Fergus in Fort Drakon if I didn't have suitable evidence. You also know I once considered Fergus to be my friend, which almost makes what he did even worse. He has betrayed me, betrayed _you_, betrayed all of Ferelden. I know he is your brother, and I know what he means to you, but it is _his _actions that have brought this about, not mine."

Jessimyn's eyes seemed to shift to the side, so that she was looking past him. "I can't believe he would do something like that."

"You don't have to believe," Alistair said with a sigh. "I would like you to. I would like for you to see the truth, but when it comes down to it, you can believe whatever you wish. For Fergus, however, it is what _I _believe that matters. Me and the other nobles. I have already called a Landsmeet, and his fate will be formally decided in less than two weeks from now. But he is a traitor, and there is only one punishment for that."

"So you'll kill him," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "You'll parade him in front of the other nobles, tell them he's a traitor, then cut off his head. You may as well take mine, too."

"Jess..."

"Isn't that what we did to Anora?" She asked, really looking at him. "Yes, Loghain deserved to die for his crimes, but did his daughter? So do I stand condemned along with Fergus?"

Alistair blinked at her. "Anora... would not swear fealty. She refused to give up the throne, even when she knew it was no longer hers. Allowing her to live would have given Loghain's supporters a rallying point, and she would have gathered that support to bring against me. I could not allow that, and as she would not swear to me, I had no other choice. You are not Anora."

"And if Ichoose to fight you?" Jessimyn asked.

"You wouldn't win," he said, the sadness he felt filling his voice. "But it won't come to that. Maker, Jess, be reasonable. Do you think I would deliberately cause you pain? But beside that, you know me. You know I am not a ruthless person. I am just and fair, and that's how I have to deal with this. It doesn't matter that I l... that he's your brother. He must accept the consequences for his actions."

Her chin fell against her chest as Jessimyn wrapped her arms around her stomach. "He's all I have, Alistair. I did nothing and let my parents die while I ran away. Am I supposed to do the same now? Am I supposed to just stand aside while the only family I have left is taken from me as well?"

At one time, Alistair would have protested that, would have told her that he was her family as well, but that was no longer the case, was it? "You still have your niece and nephew," he offered, knowing it was a feeble response.

It seemed to distract her, though, and Jessimyn asked, "Where are Jenya and the children?"

"They left for Highever a few days ago. I'm surprised you didn't pass them on the way here, really."

A pained look passed over her face. "His own wife has abandoned him."

"His own wife cannot forgive that he murdered her cousin," Alistair rebutted. "Besides, what's going to happen to him is not something his children need to see. She is doing them a kindness. Bryce and Lyla are the ones who deserve your pity and grief, not Fergus. He has thrown away everything he had for his own ambitions."

"Ambitions," Jessimyn said, almost as if she was rolling the word around inside her mouth. Very slowly, her eyes rose up to meet his. "You think he did this because of me, don't you?"

That question left Alistair momentarily speechless. He hadn't thought about this part, about what he would tell her he believed Fergus' motives to be. While Alistair didn't blame Jessimyn for the role she involuntarily played in the whole thing, he wasn't sure she would give herself that same benefit. She just looked at him, and he could think of nothing to say.

Her eyes adopted that far away look as she began to speak. "When I was a child, Fergus was always my protector. He looked out for me, he defended me to anyone he thought was treating me unfairly, even our parents. Fergus was always surrounded by friends: nobles, and knights, and women, especially before he met Oriana. But he always made time for his little sister, even though I was so much younger than him. He was my world, Alistair. When I thought I lost him before, I felt like I had failed him. But now..." She began to tremble. "When he pushed at me, when he encouraged me to... be with you, I thought it was because he wanted me to be happy, because he thought that you could... make me happy." She stumbled over the words. "I thought it was because he felt like I was..." Her eyes came into focus again, and she looked at Alistair. "But you're saying he did all that for his own benefit, that he never truly cared about my happiness, only for his own."

Alistair leaned back in his chair and spoke slowly, carefully. "I believe that, because of your relationship with me, he likely thought he could rise even higher than he already is. Perhaps being husband to the queen's cousin wasn't enough. I think he wanted to be the brother of the queen herself. Think of it, Jess. We didn't marry because we knew we couldn't have children together. Well, I have a child now."

"I can't believe he would go so far as to kill anyone. I just can't," she said, but Alistair could hear the fear in her voice, and he knew that even if she didn't quite fully believe him yet, at least she was starting to doubt her brother.

"It's not the first time he's tried," Alistair said.

"What do you mean?" Jessimyn asked.

"When you and Zevran were attacked, when you were hurt... Fergus hired the men who attacked you. He..."

Jessimyn cut him off. "No, that I _don't _believe."

"Let me finish," Alistair ordered. "He hired the men, but not to kill _you. _They were supposed to kill Zevran. I think he believed Zevran was getting too close to you, and Fergus thought he might interfere with... what he had planned for the two of us. While you were still healing, Zevran and Leliana went out to... well, do what they do best. They found out that the Crimson Oars were hired to kill Zevran, and the man who hired him was apparently Fergus' manservant."

Jessimyn stared at him. "Why... no one ever said anything about this to me."

"In that case, there was no solid proof. In fact, I never really believed it until now," he admitted. "I, like you, didn't want to believe that he could do anything like that. Zevran and Leliana were always convinced, though, and Leliana has actually been watching Fergus and Daynin since they got to Denerim."

"But you knew. And they knew. And no one ever told me," Jessimyn said, her tone accusing.

"Would you have believed it?" Alistair asked. "I didn't, which was why I didn't think you should be told."

Jessimyn just looked at him for a moment, then stood up and walked over to the window. "Even if I didn't believe you, I could have said something to him. I could have... done something. Maybe I could have kept all of this from happening. What if I could have stopped him?"

"And what if you couldn't have?" Alistair asked, turning his head to watch her. "Look, Jess, you're here because I wanted you to hear all of this from me, because I... care about you, and I think you deserve that. You're not here because I blame you, nor should you think you're here because you can do anything to change what has happened or what will happen. You can't. Fergus will receive no leniency just because he's your brother."

"I want to see him," she said, her back still to him as she faced the window. "Maybe if I speak with him... I just need to see him."

Alistair rose and walked over to her. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said as he placed a light hand on her shoulder.

Jessimyn turned around to face him, tilting her head up to look at him, and Alistair could see the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. She squeezed her lids down tight, as if to will them away. "Please," she said, and she opened her eyes again. "Please, Alistair."

He withdrew his hand and took a step back, but when she looked at him like that, he knew he couldn't say no.


	69. Jessimyn Chapter 69

Fort Drakon did not bring back good memories. There seemed to be conversations taking place all around her, and the guardsman Jessimyn was following turned back to talk with her a few times, but she heard none of it. Her concentration was centered on placing one foot in front of the other. That task was difficult enough without trying to add speech on top of it, especially when all she wanted to do was run for the door. Jessimyn didn't want to think about the things that had happened in this place the last time she had been there, but she didn't want to dwell on what lay ahead, either.

_Left foot. Right foot. Left foot._

Not for the first time in the past week, Jessimyn wondered if she was losing her mind. She had always considered that just to be a figure of speech, but now she was not so sure. At times she was so overwhelmed by her emotions that if felt as if something inside her was going to burst, while other times she just felt so empty, like there was nothing inside of her at all. It was almost like the tide, she realized. The tide of her emotions would come in, and she would want to cry and scream and yell. When the tide went out, Jessimyn was barely aware she was even alive. She let out a harsh bark of a laugh. Was she really coming up with bad analogies to explain her own feelings to herself? The guardsman glanced back at her nervously.

_Right foot. Left foot. Turn to the right._

The guards had checked her person for weapons before she was allowed inside Fort Drakon. Alistair had gone with her as far as the entrance, to let them know she was allowed to see Fergus, but he hadn't stopped the pat down. He could have, but he didn't. Jessimyn wasn't sure what that meant, that he was fine with the idea that she could have had weapons on her when she was alone with him, but not if she was going to be alone with her brother.

_Right foot. Left foot. Stop._

The cell she'd been taken to was in a different area of the fort than where she and Alistair had been kept prisoner, all those years ago. Fergus' cell was an actual room, rather than the cage-like structure she'd been kept in. Since she wasn't yet standing in front of the door, which had a tiny window at face level, she couldn't see inside.

The guardsman turned to her. "I will open the door, and you may go inside. The door will be locked behind you, and I will be right outside. When you wish to leave, just call for me, and I will let you out. But if I hear any sort of commotion in there, you will be removed. Do you understand?"

Jessimyn gave him a nod, and the guardsman turned to unlock the door. "What is it?" She heard Fergus' voice call out. "Who's there?"

The tide of her emotions started seeping in as her mind seemed to come alive. It was with an effort that she didn't push the guardsman out of her way to get inside the room. Jessimyn gasped when she saw her brother. A thick chain was shackled around an ankle, the other end attached to the wall. The chain was clearly long enough that he had access to the whole room, but she could tell from the red marks on his skin that it had been fastened on very tightly. There was a faded, greenish bruise on his cheek, and it was obvious he hadn't been able to bathe since he'd been taken. Still, his face seemed to light up when he saw her, and he jumped up to throw his arms around her in a fierce hug. Jessimyn jumped as she heard the click of the lock on the door behind her, and she took a step back from her brother. Fingers rose up to touch the discoloration on his face.

"You're hurt. Are you... have they..."

"Oh, that?" Fergus asked, a wry smile on his face. "No, actually that was a present from Jenya. Something she gave me to remember her by, before she stole away into the night with my children." Jessimyn winced at the bitterness in his voice. "But you're here now," he continued. "Thank the Maker. I wasn't sure they would let you see me, considering all of the horrible things they're accusing me of."

"So none of it is true, then?" She asked, suddenly hopeful despite the nagging voice in the back of her head that told her she was being foolish.

"Of course not, my sweet sister," he said, though the expression on his face was... odd. "I should be offended that you would even question it." He smiled at her. "But then, I'm sure your _friends _put on as much of a show for you as they did for the king. It upsets me, of course, that Alistair would believe such things of me, but as I've had time to think on it, I wonder if perhaps his grief over losing Lyrina is so great that he is just looking for someone to blame."

That seemed an odd statement, since Fergus had always seemed to try and convince her that Alistair had no real feelings for his wife. "But why?" She asked. "Why would anyone hate you enough to make up such things about you?"

Fergus shrugged and moved to go sit on a hard, narrow bench, which looked like it doubled as his bed as well. The chain at his feet clanked as he moved, and Jessimyn went to sit next to him. "There will always be people who are jealous of what we have, as Couslands," He said as he patted her knee. "You should know this, Jess. But as for why they did this... I can't say."

"But..." This was the question she needed to ask. "It was Zevran and Leliana who... saw. And Kyran, too. Why would they lie?"

His eyes seemed to grow cold at the question. "Why would I? And why would you question _me_, your family, your _only _family, over these..." He sneered, saying the next words with complete contempt. "...these people."

Jessimyn scratched idly at her arm. "Those _people _are my friends, Fergus. That's what scares me so much. What reason could they possibly have for making something like that up?"

"Money, I'm sure," he said with disgust. "And likely a great deal of it. I can't believe you came here to question me. Of all the people I had hoped I could count on, you were at the top of the list. What would father think, to know that you believed the words of commoners, of foreigners and a mage even, over your own brother? That isn't what a Cousland does. You don't turn your back on family. Family is paramount, Jess. You know that."

She couldn't meet his eyes, and Jessimyn seemed unable to put any force or volume behind her words. "I know, Fergus. It's just... they don't have any reason to hate you, to lie about you."

"But I have a reason to lie, you're saying. I guess you also think I had a reason to murder the queen as well," he said, the anger in his voice clear. "At least do me the honor of looking me in the eye when you stab me in the back, Jess."

With effort, Jessimyn managed to raise her eyes to meet his, about to offer her apologies, when she stopped. She looked down at her hands. She had been scratching her arm right where her bracelet lay. The skin beneath it had begun to itch as soon as she had questioned him. He was still touching her, as his hand was still on her knee. She scooted away from him a little, pretending like she was just turning so that she could face him better, but the itching stopped as soon as his hand fell away. Her eyes widened at that.

She could understand his anger with her, were he innocent, but the woman Hedy had not said it was anger that set the charm in the bracelet off. The charm would only be triggered if the person touching her meant her harm. She then also realized that Alistair had touched her on the arm, when they had been alone. He'd been angry, too, but the bracelet hadn't reacted. She looked into her brother's eyes, really looked at him, and saw that along with anger, he also seemed to be afraid. But if he was innocent, if he only wanted her convinced that he had been falsely accused, why would he want to hurt her? Jessimyn began to tremble.

"They say... that you killed her because of me. That you still want me to be queen, that you thought to replace Lyrina with me, now that Alistair has a child. You've always pushed and maneuvered for us to be together, Fergus."

It seemed Fergus was trying to rein in his emotions, but his nostrils flared a little as he spoke. "Is it so wrong, for a brother to want his sister to be happy? I lost my Oriana. I can no longer be with the woman I loved, but I saw no reason why you should have to go through the same pain as me. So yes, I wanted you and Alistair to be together, regardless of his marriage. But you did not always object so much to that."

"But what if I'm happy now, the way things are... or were, before I was called back to Denerim?" She asked, a sick feeling growing in her stomach. He hadn't denied anything.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you're just _so happy_, to be surrounded by fools in armor, playing at being a soldier." He snorted at that. "You are a Cousland, Jess, or have you forgotten? You deserve better than that. You deserved to be queen."

"So..." She cleared her throat, willing her voice to be strong. "So you tried to make that happen?"

"I tried to get you to marry him in the first place, or don't you remember?" He countered, a look of disgust on his face. "But _anything _I do, Jess, I do for us. For our family. What about you? It seems like everywhere you turn, it's away from us, away from what our parents gave us, what they taught us. Do you have no honor, that you would choose these _friends _over your own family?"

Jessimyn stood up, looking down at where he sat. She wrapped her arms around herself, but she couldn't stop the trembling. "You speak of family and honor, but I'm not sure you know the meaning of either word."

Fergus stood up then, too, and the look on his face was so menacing that Jessimyn took a step back, her fist coming down to pound on the door behind her. "I want to leave now," she called out.

Fergus made a disgusted sound and sat back down. "Think about what you accuse me of, Jess," he said. "Think about what will happen to me, if you don't step in on my behalf. If you let them kill me, you will have failed in your obligations to your family, to honor and duty. Think about that, while I lie in this dungeon."

Jessimyn heard the lock click and the hinges creak as the door opened behind her. "Family," she said as she looked at him. "Is that what you are, Fergus?" She blinked her eyes, cursing the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm not sure I even know you anymore." The full weight of her emotions came crashing in on her then, and she turned and fled.


	70. Alistair Chapter 70

The murmur in the hall was increasing with every passing minute. Alistair stood at the front of the enormous hall, resplendent in his armor, with Eamon at his side. Leliana, Zevran, and Kyran were nearby but mostly out of view of the other nobles who awaited the beginning of the Landsmeet. Every noble, from Lyrina's father, Teyrn Wulff, down to the lowest nobles, any who were close enough to make the trip in the time given, had arrived, and the hall seemed full almost to bursting. Still, there was one person whose absence seemed to scream at Alistair, and he couldn't stop himself from scanning the hall for her.

Alistair had taken Jessimyn down to Fort Drakon, but she hadn't been aware that he had followed her inside, had been listening outside the door as she spoke to Fergus. He had been hoping she might have been able to get him to confess, though there hadn't been much confidence in that. He hated to admit it to himself, but he also had to hear what Jessimyn said to Fergus. He didn't want to believe she had anything to do with the death of his wife, but he had to know for certain.

When she asked to be let out of the cell, Alistair had gone to hide before the guardsman opened the door. He had seen Jessimyn rush out of the cell, but she had been back under control as she wound her way back up through the halls and out of the fort. He couldn't say why for sure, but he had continued to follow her as she walked away from Fort Drakon and turned down a small, deserted alleyway. It was what he had seen there that scared him the most. Jessimyn had only just gotten herself out of sight of anyone else, or so she had thought, when she became violently ill. She vomited up probably everything she had eaten that day, and she continued to heave long after there was no food in her stomach.

When she finally stopped heaving, Alistair had realized she was sobbing. He had never enjoyed Lyrina's tears, of course, but they were nothing compared to what he was seeing then. Not only that, but Jessimyn just didn't cry. She always did her best to hide her sadness, to hide what she thought was weakness, but she was no longer holding back. She wailed as if her heart were breaking, and Alistair wasn't sure his own would stand up to the sound. He hadn't gone to her, though, no matter how strong his desire was to take her in his arms. For one, she might very well hate him for witnessing her like that. The real reason, though, was that he didn't think Jessimyn deserved to be comforted. Not for her own sake, of course, but more for Fergus'. Fergus did not deserve for his sister's anguish over what he had done to be eased. Fergus deserved for Jessimyn to be upset at him, almost to the point of breaking. It seemed cold, in a way, but Alistair could not force himself to move from where he silently observed her.

After what seemed like a very long time, Jessimyn finally rose from where she had collapsed on the ground, and Alistair had simply continued to watch her as she dusted herself off, doing her best to regain her composure. He hadn't seen her again after that, but he hadn't really been expecting to. She needed time, he knew, and he was more than willing to give that to her. However, when he spoke to Zevran and Kyran that morning, he found out that they hadn't seen her, either. They had arrived at the palace early that day, and they told him she hadn't been to the compound since she had left to go to the palace to see the king. Her horse was still in the stables, and her things were still in her room, but where _she _was, no one knew. Zevran told him that Berton had been worried and had gone out looking for her a few times, but no one could find her.

"But if she doesn't want to be found," Zevran had said. "Then she won't be. She just needs time. And if she doesn't show up today, perhaps that is for the best as well. This seems to be hard enough for her already, but what will it do to her, to watch her brother die?"

"But she has to be here," Alistair had replied. "If nothing else, the nobles know she is in Denerim, and it could make them question her innocence if she doesn't arrive soon."

But there was nothing to be done for it, so he had stalled, waiting as the room filled with people, hoping her face would be the next he saw coming through the large front doors. Finally, Eamon cleared his throat softly beside him.

"We must begin, Your Majesty," he said softly.

Alistair nodded, knowing he was right. "Bring in the prisoner," he called out in a booming voice, and the hall immediately fell silent. Every eye turned to look at the small side door through which several guardsmen escorted Fergus. He had been allowed to bathe, and the man was dressed in fresh clothing. He walked with head held high, smiling and nodding to those he passed as if his arms weren't shackled behind his back, as if it weren't for him that the Landsmeet had been called. When he stopped in front of the king, Alistair motioned for the guardsmen to release him from his restraints.

"Fergus Cousland," Alistair intoned formally. "You come before us charged with treason against the throne. You come before us charged with murdering the queen by poison. You come before us charged with poisoning the wells of Denerim, leading to the illnesses and deaths of many of her residents. What do you say to these charges?"

"My friends," Fergus responded, turning his back to the king so that he could face the crowd. "The charges brought against me are ridiculous and completely fabricated. I fear that the king, in his grief over losing his wife, our lovely queen, has allowed himself to be led astray by those who would conspire against me." He turned back to face Alistair. "I would hear from my accusers, Your Majesty. I would see the evidence they have provided of my _guilt_." The slight smile on the man's face worried Alistair.

The king beckoned Zevran, Leliana, and Kyran to come forward. Leliana stepped forward first. "Since the teyrn arrived in Denerim, I have been watching him and his manservant." She went on to explain what she'd seen of Daynin, and where she had seen him go in the city.

"How strangely convenient," Fergus replied. "That you were watching me before anyone ever got sick. And why did we require such surveillance, I wonder?"

Leliana glanced at Alistair before answering. "Because we had reason to suspect you of wrongdoing in the past, and we felt you were not to be trusted."

Fergus looked almost amused at that. "Who is _we_?"

Zevran stepped forward. "She and I both had our suspicions about you, but apparently they were well-founded, when we saw your manservant putting poison into the wells."

There were gasps from those assembled, but Fergus did not seem affected by them. "Yes, so you say," he said dismissively. "The word of two foreigners," he called out, once again speaking to the crowd. "An Orlesian and an Antivan. How could anyone believe their word over mine? I am a teyrn, and they are..." The glance he gave them was so demeaning, Alistair was afraid one of them would charge him. "...nothing," he finished.

"I saw it, too," Kyran said, coming forward. "I saw the manservant..."

Fergus didn't even let him finish. "And a mage. If this is the quality of the witnesses against me, I am highly offended."

There were a few nervous chuckles from the crowd, but Kyran spoke over them. "I also examined the people in the city, and none of them were sick. They had all been poisoned. I was summoned from Amaranthine by the king when the queen fell ill. I could tell, when I saw her, that she had been poisoned as well, and that poisoning was so severe that there was nothing I could do for her."

"Again," Fergus said. "How convenient for you." His voice rose so all could hear him clearly. "This mage arrives, spends a few moments with the queen, and she dies later that night." His voice lowered, and Fergus took a step towards Alistair, speaking only for his ears. "Do you not see how ridiculous these accusations sound, Your Majesty? Will you not agree that you have no other possible course of action than to let me go?"

"You know I won't," Alistair said, just as softly, and an expression of pure rage covered Fergus' face. That, Alistair had come to realize, was the true Fergus, the one he had never really known. He managed to hide it quite well, but that anger and hatred was always there, just under the surface it seemed.

Fergus turned back to the audience. "And what cause might I have had, then, to do such things? Surely someone has come up with a preposterous motive, to go along with these preposterous accusations?"

And here, Fergus thought he was calling a bluff. Alistair knew that Fergus did not expect him to bring Jessimyn into things. He did not think the king would tell everyone why the teyrn was suspected of doing what he did, but Alistair had no choice. "He thought to set another queen on the throne," he said, and this time, the gasps from the crowd were even louder. "He wished to put his own sister forward as the next queen."

The murmuring in the hall grew loud, and Alistair finally had to put a hand up to silence everyone. "Does the Hero of Ferelden stand accused as well, then?" A voice called from somewhere in the room.

"No," Alistair replied. "It would seem that Jessimyn Cousland had no knowledge of what her brother had planned for her."

Fergus just looked at him for a moment, but then his lips curled up slightly into a sinister-looking smile. "I demand my right to settle this matter with a duel."

The room seemed to explode around them as everyone began speaking. Eamon stepped forward, holding both hands up for silence, which was eventually granted. "The charges brought against Fergus Cousland are in doubt," he said in a voice that seemed to fill the whole room. "As is his right, Teyrn Cousland has called for a duel. Will the Landsmeet agree to this?"

Alistair clenched his hands into fists. This was not what he had wanted. Everything had seemed so clear-cut to him, but Fergus had twisted every piece of evidence they brought against him. He looked around at the gathered nobles and realized he did not hold them as strongly as he had hoped he would. Alistair had thought that they would cry out against the teyrn, demand justice be served upon them, but Fergus' clever ways had made them doubt he had anything to do with Lyrina's death. He watched in dismay as the vast majority of those assembled agreed to the duel.

"Very well," Eamon said. "It will be fought according to tradition. A test of arms in single combat until one party yields, and all who are gathered will abide by the outcome. Your Majesty, who will you choose as your champion?" Alistair gave him a look, and Eamon lowered his voice so it only traveled to Alistair's ears. "You know you cannot fight. You are the king. I know you want to defend the queen's honor and memory, but it is not allowed. You must choose a champion."

"I will do it," said Zevran, stepping forward.

Fergus let out a loud laugh. "Is that the best you can manage, Your Majesty? No Ferelden will step forward to fight for you?" He looked extremely pleased. "So be it, then."

"And you, Teyrn Cousland, who will be your champion in..." Eamon began, but then there was a loud disruption in the back of the hall. The crowd seemed to part, and Alistair turned to see Jessimyn walking toward the front, loud murmurs following her as she moved.

"I will do it," she said. "I will be his champion."

Alistair felt his heart sink as he watched her approach. She was fully dressed in her armor, her hair pulled back from her face, which was set into a grim look. To anyone else, he supposed, she probably looked fierce and confident, but Alistair couldn't help but notice the vacant expression in Jessimyn's eyes. She stopped in front of him and offered a formal bow.

"Thank you, my sweet sister," Fergus said, his smile all too pleased. "But there is no need for that. I do not require a champion in this. I will fight the duel myself."

Alistair watched as Jessimyn turned slowly to face her brother. "I do not offer myself to fight for you, my brother," she said. "I offer myself as the _king's _champion. I will fight for him."


	71. Jessimyn Chapter 71

The Landsmeet seemed to erupt into chaos, but Jessimyn only had eyes for her brother, who in turn was staring daggers back at her. She could see the rage and hatred on his face, but it couldn't affect her, not then. She was blessedly empty inside. A guardsman stepped between the two of them, and Jessimyn felt a hand on her arm that was tugging her away. Her head seemed to roll around very slowly until she was looking up at the person who had a hold on her. Alistair was pulling her away from the front of the crowd. His face showed concern and... fear? No, that seemed too tame a word for the emotion on his face. Terror, perhaps? Funny, she wondered what her face showed, if anything.

Jessimyn had little memory of what had transpired between the time when she left Fort Drakon to that morning. She had spent much of the time very drunk, as had seemed appropriate. At first she had just wanted to leave, had just wanted to return to Amaranthine as if nothing had happened, but she knew she couldn't do that. She couldn't just ignore what Fergus had done because what he had done was so vile, it sullied her family name. Would the Couslands become like the Howes? A great family, brought down by the actions of an evil man, so that their family name meant nothing? If her duty was to uphold her family's honor, there was only one thing she could do.

It wasn't for her own sake that she had to do something, Jessimyn knew. The Cousland name meant little enough to her as a Grey Warden, but it meant everything to Bryce and Lyla. Could she just resign them to live the rest of their lives with a black name? And what about Jenya? Jessimyn had a feeling her sister-in-law was probably even more in the dark about what Fergus had been up to than she was. The way Jessimyn saw it, Fergus would take them all down with him if she didn't do anything about it. Of course, these were brave thoughts, but would her will flee when it came time to face him? She didn't know.

"Jess," Alistair said, bringing her back from her thoughts, his voice so low that she had to stand close to him to hear him over the crowd behind them. "You don't need to do this. You don't have to prove anything to anyone." His hand tightened on her arm. "I won't let you do this."

She turned to look over her shoulder, but Fergus was no longer in view. "Where did he go?" She asked.

Alistair made some sort of sound, and Jessimyn turned to look at him again. "They're getting him into his armor," was his choked response. "Jess, look at me." She did. "What are you trying to do here?" He asked. "This is not your fight."

"But it is, don't you see?" She tilted her head up, trying to focus on his face. She was about to say more when they suddenly had company.

Teyrn Wulff stormed over to them. "What is this about?" He demanded. "She cannot defend my daughter's honor!" Jessimyn almost laughed at that. No one had questioned the honor of the queen, had they? Lyrina's father turned his harsh gaze on her. "Why should you be trusted? You are his _sister_, for Maker's sake. You'll just let him win, and since the Landsmeet has to abide by the outcome, he'll get away with Lyrina's murder." He turned back to Alistair. "No, I won't allow it."

"I cannot defend your daughter's honor because your daughter's honor is not at stake, Teyrn Wulff," Jessimyn said. "Your daughter probably had more honor in her than the rest of us. No, it is my family's honor I wish to defend here today."

"You see?" The teyrn said to Alistair. "She means to let him win."

"No," Jessimyn responded. "That I do not. I love my brother, it is true. I always will, no matter what, but I can't and won't condone what he's done." She shook her head. "He brings shame on the Cousland name, and it is that I wish to redeem. Not for myself, but for my niece and nephew." She looked at Lyrina's father. "You know what it is like to lose those you love, to lose your family. I lost my parents years ago, and I'll lose my brother today, in one way or another. I don't want to lose my niece and nephew. If they are to have any sort of life, I have to prove that there is still _some _honor in the Cousland name."

She felt the stirrings of sadness and hurt within her as she spoke, but she fought them off. Now was not the time for feeling. She could do that later. Jessimyn looked at the two men facing her. Teyrn Wulff's expression she could not read, but Alistair's... it was full of pity now. She did not want his pity. Lyrina's father glanced down and seemed to notice the king's hand, which was still on her arm, and his eyes narrowed. "I have heard my Lyrina's suspicions about the two of you. Is it true, then? Did... was she killed because of you?"

Jessimyn took a deep breath. It seemed that Lyrina hadn't told her father about Alistair's confession, then, only of her previous doubts. She didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to implicate Alistair, either. After all, this man was still the grandfather of Alistair's child and would always be in his life. "She was killed because my brother has no respect for life outside his own family," she answered. "Fergus thought he could get away with it, and then he believed he could manipulate Alistair and myself into a union that would benefit _him_. What he did, he did without my knowledge. Had I known, I would have stopped him, in whatever way it would have taken. I bore your daughter no ill will, of that I can assure you. I had hoped she and Alistair might live a long and happy life together."

A sound from behind them drew their attention, and Jessimyn turned to see Fergus standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed in his armor. He held his sword loosely in his hand, and the shield strapped to his arm bore the Cousland crest. "It's time to dance," she said softly and walked away from the two men to face her brother.

Zevran met her as she walked toward her brother. "You needn't do this," he told her. "I would be more than happy to take your place."

Jessimyn glanced at him. "No, Zev," she answered. "I _have_ to do this. For him as much as for myself." She didn't give him a chance to answer as she stepped away from the crowds lining the edges of the room.

The room had fallen deathly silent as Jessimyn moved to take her place opposite Fergus. "You disgust me," he told her, and Jessimyn could almost feel every body in the room lean in closer to hear what he said. "You should be standing beside me, not against me. What would our father think, to see us now?"

"He would be ashamed," she answered simply.

That, apparently, was not the answer he'd been looking for, and Fergus let out a yell and charged at her. Jessimyn hadn't even drawn her weapons, and she jumped to his left, trying to stay out of the way of the sword that came swinging at her wildly as she drew her dagger and sword. Her positioning put her on the side of Fergus' shield, which he thrust out at her. The edge of it caught her, knocking her backwards, but she ducked her head, and rolled. Her feet went up and over her head, then came back down to put her in a kneeling position, and she managed to bring her sword up in time to block the swing her brother threw at her head. She swept a foot out under his legs, tripping him up, and she used the time it took for him to regain his balance to jump up and move away.

"This brings back good times, doesn't it Jess," he called out to her in mock joviality. "Remember when we used to spar in the practice yards back home? Remember how I used to kick your ass?" A little gasp came from the nobles standing closest to them at his language, but they both ignored it. Fergus lunged forward, throwing a jab towards her body, but she brought up her dagger to deflect it, causing his sword to go wide. Jessimyn swung her own sword at him, but he raised his shield, blocking it easily.

"What, when I was 14?" She asked. "I'm a little better now."

Fergus snorted. "But only a little," he replied. He feinted to his right, drawing Jessimyn to her left, but then he swung low at her right leg. The tip of his sword caught her on the thigh, just above the knee, and she could feel the warmth as blood pooled to the surface and began seeping through her leggings.

"Looks like I've drawn first blood," he called triumphantly.

Gritting her teeth, Jessimyn gave no response. The pain tried to push through the barrier she'd erected in her head against all feelings, but she successfully batted it away. No time for that. She circled wide around Fergus. He liked to distract his opponents. She remembered that well enough from their sparring sessions. As Jessimyn shuffled to the side, she caught sight of Alistair. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, and the fear on his face... was enough to distract her just enough, and Fergus charged at her again. His shield smashed into her, knocking her backwards, and he fell on top of her. She brought her sword up in front of her face just in time to block Fergus' swing. He put his weight onto her legs as he pushed the sword down at her.

"It's too bad you won't end up with Alistair in the end," he said so quietly, Jessimyn could only barely hear him. There was a menacing smile on his face. "The bastard king deserves a whore for his queen."

Before Jessimyn even had time to react, Fergus jerked his sword back and brought it down again. Jessimyn used the change in his weight on her to pull her head to the side, but she moved her left arm up to protect her face. Fergus brought the pommel of his sword down where her head had been. If she had any doubt that he meant to kill her, it was gone now, but the thought fled when the pommel connected with her arm right above the elbow.

Jessimyn screamed as she heard the bone in her arm snap. The sound seemed to startle Fergus, and she used that to kick him off of her and scramble away, her broken arm clutched close to her chest. The dagger lay forgotten on the ground, but Jessimyn gripped her sword tightly. The pain in her arm was too much to ignore, and she felt the walls in her head begin to crumble. She felt the tide come in, and she no longer tried to hold it back. The agony she felt, along with what Fergus had said to her, seemed to trigger something in her, and she realized that trying to hold back her emotions had been hurting her. She couldn't fight when she was numb; body and mind had to be completely engaged.

There were sounds from the people around her, and it seemed like Alistair and Zevran and even Kyran were trying to say something to her, but she ignored everything but Fergus. There must have been something on Jessimyn's face because her brother seemed to startle back from her for a moment, but then he smiled. "Ah, there you are, Jess," he said, his voice low. "So glad you could join us." He lunged at her, but Jessimyn easily parried his thrust. However, she no longer had another weapon, and she quickly realized she had to adjust her stance to keep from becoming unbalanced.

For a while, Jessimyn just played defense. She easily dodged his attacks and made him chase her for a while. Fergus threw a wild, overhead shot at her, and Jessimyn brought her hand up so that the blade of her sword fell down in front of her own body. She twisted to the side, sliding her blade up the side of his as she moved out of the way, then finished the movement in an arc that brought her sword down hard on Fergus' shoulder, in an opening he had left because he held his shield too low. Blood bloomed from the cracks in his armor at the shoulder, and his shield arm fell limply to his side. He seemed to try to lift it back up a few times before tossing the shield to the side.

"Looks like we're even now," Jessimyn said, and Fergus growled at her.

The fighting seemed to pick up in pace, then, and the crash of metal on metal rang out through the hall. _Parry, dodge, thrust, jab_. They were too evenly matched, knew each others' moves too well, and Jessimyn found herself getting tired. Sweat ran down her forehead, stinging her eyes, but Fergus was in similar shape, and he was wearing heavier armor. Fergus jabbed at her, his sword aimed at her chest, but Jessimyn ducked and twisted around, her sword lashing out to catch him on the back of his leg, above the knee. He cried out, only barely managing to stay upright.

"Yield, Fergus," Jessimyn offered. "We can end this now, if you yield." Fergus just laughed at her, throwing himself forward in a strange, limping charge.

Apparently he expected her to drop down low again, and his swing was aimed at knee level, but Jessimyn danced backwards, swinging her own sword, and she felt a strange, pulling feeling as she felt it connect. Her momentum carried her around so that she was no longer facing him, but she heard his sword clatter to the ground, and she turned to see Fergus' hand going up to his neck. Jessimyn had only gotten him with the tip of her sword, but it was enough, and the blood gushing from his neck was coming out in spurts. He dropped to his knees, then slumped over to his side, trying to stem the flow, but it was no use.

Jessimyn heard her own sword fall to the floor just as cheers seemed to sound in the hall. She looked around wildly, trying to see who was celebrating, but everything was a blur. There were four faces she recognized, standing nearby, but they all seemed to watch her in horror. She chose to ignore them, instead going to Fergus' side.

"Oh, Maker," she whispered. Fergus coughed, and she felt like she should do something to help him, but she didn't want to touch him. "Fergus, I..." She felt the tears beginning to burn in her eyes, but she didn't know what to say.

"You..." Fergus gasped out, his voice so low that she had to lean in to hear. She felt a sudden pain in her broken arm, but she ignored it. "You..." he said again. "You... are no... Cousland..." He coughed again, and his eyes lost their focus. The pulse at his neck weakened and then stopped, and Jessimyn felt as if her own heart had stopped as well. She turned her head to see Kyran beside her. The pain she had felt in her arm was him straightening it, and he held his hands over the break to begin the healing.

"No," Jessimyn protested, but it was too late, and the healing was done. The arm still felt tender, but the excruciating pain was gone, and she needed that pain. She needed to feel it so that she could feel something, something that would keep the reality of what she had just done from crashing down around her. Kyran still had her left arm, but Jessimyn felt someone else take her right and pull her away from her brother. "No!" She cried out. "Don't touch me!" She jerked her arm out of Alistair's grasp and stumbled away from him. The look on his face was not one she could bear just then, and she looked around wildly, trying to find the way out.

"Let her be," she heard Kyran say softly, but then another voice was descending upon her.

"You're not just going to let her go free, are you?" Teyrn Wulff demanded.

The hall went silent at his words, and strangely, they seemed to temporarily calm her. Jessimyn turned slowly to face him. "The man responsible for your daughter's death is dead," she said. Did her voice sound funny? Yes, she supposed it did. There was a strange tremor to it. Was that why everyone looked so afraid of her just then? "What more do you want?"

Even the teyrn seemed frightened of her, and he glanced at the king before answering. "You..."

"You feel I bear some responsibility as well," she answered for him, her voice dull and lifeless. "Well, I have just killed my own brother, which means that I am now responsible for the deaths of every member of my family. You wish me dead as well? Very well, do what you will to me, but know that it will be a blessing, not a punishment." She reached down and picked up her sword, holding it pommel out to Teyrn Wulff. When he made no move to take it from her, she made the same offer to Alistair.

The king blanched. "Put it down, Jess," he said softly, and Jessimyn obeyed, letting the sword once again fall to the floor. The sound made her jump, and she looked down at her feet, looked down at the trail of blood her boots had left on the ground. Jessimyn's heart seemed to twist in her chest, and her stomach tried to rise out of her body. No one stood in her way as she ran for the door.


	72. Berton Chapter 72

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Berton's voice practically echoed through the practice yard, and that twit Jakob shied away from him.

"I mean... she's gone," Jakob said. "She stormed in, ran into her barracks, came back out and went to the stables. She took off as soon as her horse was saddled."

"How long ago was this?" Berton growled.

"Not very," Jakob said in a rush. At least the fool was attempting to be helpful. "Maybe half an hour?"

"Why didn't you stop her?" Berton demanded.

Jakob let out a strangled laugh. "Stop her? Even in the best of times, I never tried to give Jessimyn orders. Today was not the best of times. If you'd seen her..." He shivered a little and shook his head. "She was covered in blood, and I don't know whose blood it was. But it was her eyes that made us all stay away. I'm not sure she would have seen or heard me even if I _had _tried to stop her. I probably could have stood right in front of her horse, and she would have trodden me down without even realizing."

Berton frowned. He knew the day was not going to end well, but he hadn't been expecting something like this. "Saddle my horse," he commanded before going into the men's barracks. He hadn't brought much with him to Denerim, so it took little time to scoop it all into his pack. From there he went to the mess hall, filling another bag with food he could take with him. Berton had an idea that, if Jessimyn was as bad off as Jakob made her out to be, then she probably hadn't thought to bring food with her.

When she had just shown back up at the compound that morning, he hadn't been sure what to think. He had tried to speak with her, but she'd acted like she was in a big hurry, telling him that she had to get to the Landsmeet. He had offered to accompany her. Berton knew he wouldn't have been allowed inside, but he would have been willing to wait outside for her. If things were as certain as Zevran had made them out to be, she had probably just watched her brother being executed. Maker damn it, he should have gone with her, whether she wanted him to or not. As it was now, though, he had to find her. He couldn't be certain, but he had a good idea that she was probably in shock.

Once his horse was saddled, Berton left immediately for the north gate. He figured her most likely destination was either Amaranthine or Highever, both of which would require her to take the road north out of Denerim. He would check with the gateguards to see if they had seen her. Jessimyn was well-known enough that someone would notice her passing, especially if she was covered in blood as Jakob said. Maker, what did _that _mean, he wondered. Had she gotten into a fight with someone at the Landsmeet? No, more likely she had thrown herself on her brother's body once he was beheaded... or at least he assumed that was how they executed people in Ferelden. Either way, the state she seemed to be in would surely be enough to attract someone's notice.

Sure enough, the guards at the northern gate said that she had passed through at a gallop less than an hour earlier. Berton thanked them for their help and kicked his own horse into a run, though he kept the pace for only a few minutes. If Jessimyn showed as little concern for her horse as she had on the trip to Denerim, he figured she wouldn't get very far before her mount was completely exhausted. He alternated his speeds, and sure enough, a little over two hours later, he saw a lone figure on a horse off in the distance. Berton urged his horse into a trot to catch up, but he quickly saw that was unnecessary, as the figure didn't seem to be moving, or at least not very quickly.

When he got close enough to see that it was her, Berton called to Jessimyn, but she gave no indication that she heard him. Riding closer still, he could see that she had worked her horse into a lather and was now sitting on the mare's back, staring off into the distance while the horse grazed idly at the grass at her feet. Jessimyn held the reins very loosely in her hands, and Berton sidled up next to her to take them from her.

She turned her head slowly to look at him. "Oh. Hello, Berton."

Jessimyn looked terrible. She had tied her hair back, but wisps had come loose and were plastered to her face with sweat and probably blood. The sleeves of her undertunic and her leggings were soaked in blood, while her armor was splattered with it. "Are you hurt?" He asked, worried, but she just gave him a confused look. Berton quickly dismounted, then pulled Jessimyn from her horse. She didn't try to fight him, but she didn't help, either, and it was like lifting a large sack of grain. After lowering her to the ground into a sitting position, Berton kneeled next to her. He checked her arm first, but his light probing didn't elicit any sort of response. He then checked her leg. The leggings had been sliced through, so that a large gash opened up above her knee, but the skin underneath was whole.

"Did someone heal you?" He asked.

His voice seemed to startle her, and she blinked at him. "Oh. Hello, Berton."

Her face was cool and clammy to the touch. Berton slipped an arm underneath hers to help her stand. "Come on, kitten," he said in a soothing voice. "Let's get you back to Denerim."

"No!" She shouted, struggling to get away from him. Her fingernails dug into the skin of his arms, and her boot connected with his shin, and then she was running, her horse apparently forgotten.

Berton took off after her, easily catching up to her, and he grabbed her around the waist. Jessimyn continued to fight him, but he just hugged her to him tightly, as much to protect himself from her flailing arms as to help her, but eventually she stopped fighting. It was like the life just drained out of her.

"Don't make me go back there," she begged. "I can't... I have to get away from him, from them, from all of it."

Berton maneuvered her around so that she was facing him. "Shhh..." He whispered. "It's all right. We don't have to go back. We can go somewhere else. We can go back to Amaranthine if you'd prefer." She was clearly in shock. He'd seen men go into shock before, but he'd never seen anything this bad. In fact, she'd been in a form of shock for the past couple weeks, since they left Amaranthine for Denerim, but it had been nothing like this. He knew she would be fine in a day or two, but he needed to keep her from hurting herself in the mean time. "Come on," he said again. "We have a few more hours of daylight we can use for travel."

Jessimyn didn't move, and Berton looked down at her. Her face was slack, and he grimaced. He couldn't trust her to handle a horse, not if she could barely stand on her own. With his arm around her for support, he tied the reins of her horse to the saddle of his own as a sort of lead rope. It should work, as long as they went slowly. Grabbing her around the waist, Berton lifted her up onto his own horse, and then he climbed up behind her. Jessimyn's arms fell limply to her sides as the rode, and Berton had to keep his hand securely around her waist to keep her from slipping. How she had managed to get as far as she did without falling and breaking her neck, he would never know.

As they day grew later, Berton started looking for a place to stop for the night. He would have much rather gone back to Denerim, as he felt Jessimyn needed to be surrounded by her friends and loved ones just then, but he hoped he might be able to convince her to turn back in the morning. He still had no idea what had happened during the Landsmeet, but it was obviously bad enough to cause such a reaction in her. He found a small stream, off of which was a little pool, and he decided that was as good a place to stop as any. The pool was big enough that Jessimyn should be able to clean herself up without him having to worry about her drowning.

She sat, stiff and unmoving, while Berton set up their tents. It was warm enough that he didn't have to build a very large fire, but once it was built, he realized he was stalling. Jessimyn still sat, staring off past the fire. He watched her for a moment, unsure of what to do. Should he ask her what happened? Should he just leave her alone? Should he try to distract her in some other way? He wasn't sure how best to deal with the situation, but he figured the first thing to do was probably to get her cleaned up. It couldn't be healthy for her, in her state, to be sitting there covered in blood.

"Kitten," he said softly as he knelt beside her. She didn't even seem to hear him. "Jessimyn." Still nothing. He reached for an arm and began removing her gauntlets. She didn't move then, or when he took off her boots. "Jessimyn," he said again. "You need to stand up. You need to take the rest of your armor off. I'll get it cleaned up, and you can go down to the pond and wash off."

She turned her head to look at him, but there was no other response. Berton sighed lightly and put his hands under her arms to gently pull her to her feet. At least she was able to stand, and he put her hands on his shoulders to help her keep her balance while he began working on the buckles of her armor. Jessimyn's hands slipped down a little to his chest, but at least she stayed upright. He had set the last piece aside when her fingers tightened around his shirt.

"I don't feel anything," she said.

Berton touched her face lightly with the backs of his fingers. "What do you mean?"

"I should feel... something. I should feel sad, or angry, or... something. But there's nothing there." She looked up at him. "Why don't I feel anything?"

"It takes time to deal with the pain," he said gently. "When someone you love is taken from you..."

"Fergus wasn't taken," she said, cutting him off. "I killed him."

"What happened wasn't your fault," he began.

"Yes," she said. "I killed him. I killed my own brother. And they cheered. Oh, Maker, they cheered when he died." She slumped against him.

Berton stood stiffly, uncertain of what to do. He wasn't good at dealing with things like this. What she seemed to need right then, he wasn't sure he could give. As much as he hated to admit it, Berton had a feeling Jessimyn would have been in better shape if Zevran had been the one to chase after her. Or Kyran. Or just about anyone else but him. "You need to wash up," he finally said, unable to think of anything else. "And I'll get you something to eat. Then, I think you should try to sleep."

Leaving her at the pond, Berton went back to the fire. He built it up a little more, then set to boiling some water. He sliced up the fruit, cheese, and bread he had brought with him, then glanced the way of the water. Then he picked up her armor, piece by piece, and cleaned the blood from it as best he could. Then he waited... and waited... and finally decided he needed to go check on her. When he reached the edge of the pond, he saw Jessimyn in the water, her back to him, but it was clear she was nude, at least from the waist up. He knew the water was cold, despite the warmth in the air, but she didn't seem to notice at all.

Berton cleared his throat softly, and Jessimyn turned around. He quickly averted his eyes. He could tell she was slowly moving towards him out of the water, but he did his best to keep his eyes on the ground in front of him. While it was true that he wanted nothing more than to spend hours examining and exploring every inch of her naked body, now was not the time for it. Berton held out the clean tunic he had brought for her. "Here," he said, trying to keep his voice normal. "Put this on." She made no move to take it, though she was close enough to him that she could have, and he could tell, from what he could see out of the corner of his eye, that she was shivering. "You need to get dressed, kitten. You look like you're freezing."

"I _am _cold," she agreed. "But at least it's something for me to feel."

"Yes, but..." He continued holding the tunic out for her. "You're also naked. Get dressed." In truth, it was too warm outside for her to be shivering as much as she was, but he had a feeling it wasn't because of the temperature.

Jessimyn took the tunic from his hand, but then she grabbed his hand as well and placed it on her bare breast. His eyes followed, but he tore them away to look at her face as he jerked his hand back. "What are you doing?"

"Make love to me, Berton," she said as she looked at him with vacant eyes.

"What? No, I..."

"I need to feel something," she said. "Anything. Please. I feel hollow inside, like I'm disappearing. I need to know that I'm still alive."

"What you need," he said as he took the tunic back and forced it over her head, "is to get something to eat, then to go to sleep. Things won't seem so bleak in the morning." He could finally look at her again, but she looked so silly, with her head poking out of her tunic but her arms still stuck inside. Well, she would have to figure that out all on her own. He didn't want to touch her any more than he had to.

While Berton knew he would never take her up on the offer when it came under such circumstances, he also was aware that his body was trying to react. He placed a hand high on her back and gently guided her back to the camp. By the time they had reached the fire, Jessimyn had managed to pull her arms free. Getting her to eat was a lengthy process, and by the time she was finished, the sun had set.

"Now to sleep with you," he said, his voice more gruff than usual. It seemed promising when she stood up on her own, but Jessimyn just walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

"Come with me," she said.

Berton grabbed her around the waist and managed to stand up, holding her in his arms. "No, kitten," he said. "Even if I wasn't sure you would hate me in the morning for accepting your offer, I would still say no. What you need right now is sleep, nothing more."

He carried her to her tent, setting her gently on her bedroll. Once he released her, Jessimyn's hand reached out to stroke the front of his breeches. Berton scrambled back away from her.

"See?" She asked, though she wasn't really looking at him. "You want it, too." Berton grimaced and turned to exit the tent. As if he needed proof from her that her slightest touch was enough to arouse him. "Berton," she called, and he was fool enough to turn around. She sat upright on her bedroll, the tunic gone, and his eyes were suddenly filled with what he'd been trying to keep himself from seeing. His mouth went dry as she leaned back on her elbows, spreading her knees just a little further apart. However, the vacant expression on her face somewhat spoiled the view.

"Stay with me?" She asked again.

Berton gathered up the remains of his self-control and fled from the tent.


	73. Jessimyn Chapter 73

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I know I just posted a chapter this morning, but I'm really not pleased with it. I'm not sure if this chapter will make it better or worse, but it just felt wrong leaving things like they were. Let me know what you think. Am I being a little too over-the-top cheesy? The events of the past chapter and this one are necessary to the plot, but I guess I don't really like them. What does that say, that I don't feel like I have total control over my own characters? The story is theirs; I just translate it into words. (How's _that _for cheesy?)_

_~***~_

When Jessimyn woke up the next morning, she felt a little better. She felt a little more in control of herself, and while the pain of losing Fergus was still overwhelming, she felt better able to cope with it. She didn't feel quite as well-rested as she would have liked, but she did feel... a hand on her waist? Jessimyn was lying on her side, so she couldn't see who the hand belonged to, but she must have made a small sound or movement because the hand seemed to tighten around her, pulling her closer to the body at her back. Her mind flew back to the previous day, trying to remember everything that had happened.

She remembered the Landsmeet, though her mind seemed to recoil from the memory as soon as it was touched. It was still too fresh, so she left it alone. Jessimyn also remembered taking a horse and leaving Denerim. That's when things got fuzzy. The horse had simply stopped running, no matter how much she begged it to keep going, and then... Her eyes widened as she recalled the person who had found her. Ever so slowly, Jessimyn rolled to her back to get a look at who was lying beside her. As she moved, the hand slid across her stomach so that it was resting across the bottom of her ribs. She turned her head to look just as Berton opened his own eyes.

He pulled his hand back as if he'd touched something hot, and he shoved himself away from her as fast as he could. "You were... I..." He scrubbed a hand through his thick hair. "Get dressed, come outside. I'll explain." Then he was through the tent flaps and outside.

Her mind grappled for an explanation, but it was like her memories of the previous night lay at the bottom of a lake, and all she could do was skip across the surface. She reached for her bag and pulled out a pair of trousers. Before slipping them on, she reached a hand beneath the tunic she was wearing to touch the insides of her legs. There was no evidence that they'd done anything more than just sleep next to each other, so at least there was that. After all, she liked Berton, thought of him as a friend, but she wasn't interested in him in a sexual way. Strange... that thought seemed to tickle at something in the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite remember what it was.

Jessimyn traded the tunic for a loose blouse, then ran a comb through her hair and pulled it into a braid. Suddenly nervous for some reason, she had to take a deep breath before exiting the tent. Berton stood in front of where the campfire apparently had been. Jessimyn just stood in front of her tent until he looked up at her. "No need to be frightened, kitten," he said in an almost offended tone.

"I'm not frightened," she replied and moved to sit near him... though not too close.

"What do you remember?" He asked.

"About what?"

He nodded, as if confirming something to himself. "I thought as much. Against your... wishes, you went to sleep alone. You were probably asleep a few hours before you seemed to have some sort of dream. Nightmare, I suppose it was. You woke up screaming. I went into your tent to try and calm you. When you finally fell back to sleep, I left, but you were awake and screaming again an hour later. You begged me to stay, once you were calm the second time, so... I did. Nothing happened, I promise you that, so you can stop looking at me that way. You know me better than that, I would hope."

"No, it's..." Something he said had bothered her. "You said I went to sleep alone against my wishes?"

If Berton had so much as smiled when he told her what he had to tell her next, she might have thought he was joking. She may have even been angry with him, but his tone was so serious. "You offered yourself to me. You told me that you couldn't feel anything, that you wanted to feel _something_, so you wanted to have sex with me."

Even as serious as he sounded, Jessimyn wanted to deny it. After all, she just didn't really think of Berton that way. But even as the words were forming on her lips, the memory came back. She remembered standing in front of him naked by the water, and in her tent... she had basically put herself on display for him. Jessimyn flushed a deep red color. Not even the prostitutes she'd met in Antiva would have behaved so shamelessly. Maker, maybe Fergus was right; maybe she really _was_ a whore.

Once she thought of Fergus, her mind latched onto it and wouldn't let go. She was suddenly drowning in memories of the Landsmeet, of Fergus looking up at her, denying Jessimyn her family name with his last breath. The tears she had been fighting all this time would no longer be denied, and she cried. She cried for the brother she lost, the man she once knew, as well as for the man he had become. She cried for herself, for the pain she had caused everyone, for the looks on the faces of her friends as they watched her kill her own brother. Would they ever be able to look at her again? Even as she cried, Jessimyn realized that this was the release she'd been so desperately needing.

Jessimyn became aware of the arms around her and realized at some point Berton had gone to her. He held her in his lap as he petted her hair, letting her sob against his chest. "I'm sorry," she said. "I..."

"Hush," he said. "You're allowed to be emotional. You're allowed to feel. You just lost your brother..."

"No," she said hoarsely. "I didn't just lose him, Berton. I..." She wiped her nose on her sleeve before looking up at him. "I killed him."

"It wasn't your fault," he replied.

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I was the one holding the sword. He's dead because of me." She looked away. "He called on his right to a duel, a trial by arms. He requested no champion of his own, but I was Alistair's... I was the king's champion. I didn't... I didn't mean to kill him. He was just supposed to yield." She felt Berton's arms tighten around her, and she realized she had started trembling.

It suddenly seemed very strange to be there with Berton. He didn't really understand everything that had happened, and he was the last person she wanted to see her as weak. She extracted herself from his arms and wiped at her face. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how she should act. Maker, after the way she had acted the night before, how could she even look at him again? Perhaps he noticed her discomfort, for the question he asked her was so out of the blue that it distracted her from her thoughts.

"Who's Duncan?" He asked.

"What... how do you know of Duncan?"

He looked at her. "You kept calling me Duncan last night, when you woke up screaming."

"He... he's the man who recruited me into the Grey Wardens," she answered. "He was there when my parents died." Berton's eyebrows shot up. "Surely you've heard the story," she said.

"No, kitten, I haven't. I only know of you what you've told me," he said.

And like that, she found herself telling him of that night in Highever, of waking up to find that Howe had betrayed her family, of Duncan helping her steal away into the night while she left her parents to die. "In a way, I suppose you sort of fit the role he played then," she finished up. "He was there when I let my parents die, and now you're here... and Fergus..."

"You feel responsible for your parents," he stated.

"Of course I do."

Berton shook his head. "As you feel responsible for Fergus. None are your fault, you know."

Jessimyn looked away. "I... can't talk about this right now. Look, let's just pack up and get going. We've wasted enough daylight hours already."

Berton just nodded and immediately began pulling down his tent. Jessimyn did the same, and they were ready to leave in less than an hour. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but her horse seemed to give her a wary look as she mounted, and she felt guilty for how she'd treated the mare the day before.

"So... north or south?" Berton asked. "Back to Denerim, or..."

"No," Jessimyn said quickly. "No, I... can't go back there. Not now. Maybe not ever. I need to go to Highever. I owe it to Jenya and the children... if they're even still there."

They set off, keeping a modest pace. As the days passed, and they got closer to Amaranthine, Jessimyn told Berton she wouldn't mind if he left her to travel the rest of the way on her own, but he waved off the suggestion. "Not that I don't think you can't take care of yourself," he assured her. "It's just not safe, traveling alone."

After the first couple days, they seemed to settle into a pattern. For the most part, Berton left her alone. He seemed to know she needed the time to process what had happened at the Landsmeet. She only cried in her tent, and thankfully he never intruded on it. There were no more nightmares after that first night, and by the time they reached Highever, Jessimyn felt close to normal. Other than the hole in her chest, of course. The one her parents' deaths had caused, which was now a little bigger, a little more jagged.

The normal greeting she would have gotten upon arriving in Highever was not to be had. Certainly the people they passed recognized her, but when they did, they bent to whisper to each other. It made her wonder what Rendon Howe's children had had to endure, and it made her feel ashamed that she had never thought of it before. When they arrived at Castle Cousland, though, she received her greatest shock. There were not guardsmen at the gates, no servants inside to take her things.

"Hello?" She called out as she set her bag by the door.

There was no answer, and she made her way back through the estate, Berton close behind her. It seemed strange, that the place was so empty. They had just made it to the hallway that led to the family's rooms when she heard a noise. A little face peeked around a corner, then quickly disappeared.

"Mama," she heard the boy's voice call, and then there was the sound of footsteps.

Jenya rounded the corner, Bryce and Lyla behind her, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Jessimyn. "You," she said. "What are _you _doing here?"


	74. Jessimyn Chapter 74

The two women just stared at each other for a long time. Jessimyn hadn't exactly known what to expect when she saw Jenya again, but she certainly hadn't counted on the open hostility. Lyla clung to Jenya's skirts, hiding behind her mother, but Bryce peeked bravely around her to look at Jessimyn. "Who's that, Mama?" He asked.

"No one, baby," Jenya responded, and Jessimyn felt as if she'd been pierced through the chest. "Go back to your room," she told the children.

"But you said we could go outside and play in the garden!" Bryce protested.

"Ow-side! Ow-side!" Lyla agreed.

Berton cleared his throat softly. "If the children want to go outside, I would be more than willing to watch them, so that the two of you can talk."

Jenya gave him a disdainful look. "I don't even know you. Why would I leave my children in your care? Especially considering the company you keep."

"Jenya, please," Jessimyn said, and her sister-in-law's face softened a bit.

"Ow-side!" Lyla said again.

"Oh, very well," Jenya said, taking her children by the hand. She led them past Berton and Jessimyn, who trailed after them back through the estate. Once she got to the door leading out into the garden, Jenya opened it and let Bryce and Lyla run outside, but she did not follow. After just a brief pause, Berton strolled out after them. Jenya watched her children for a while before speaking. "Why are you here?" She asked, not looking at Jessimyn. "Don't you think you've caused enough damage to my family?"

"It's my family, too," Jessimyn said, though her voice sounded weak. Jenya's words reminded her too much of what Fergus had said to her.

Jenya crossed her arms over her chest. "I stopped considering you to be family when I found out you seduced my cousin's husband." Jessimyn's eyes widened at that. "Tell me. Did you try to ruin their marriage just to show you could? And how long did it take for you to move on to your latest... conquest?" She jerked her head in Berton's direction.

"Berton and I are just friends," Jessimyn said carefully. "And Alistair was never a _conquest."_

Jenya scoffed. "Yes, Fergus told me you'd been in a relationship with him, before he became king. That doesn't excuse what you did with him after he was married. When Fergus found out about it..." She pressed her lips together. "Is that why he did what he did? Once he found out you and Alistair had... rekindled your affair, he thought he could secure your place at the king's side?"

Closing her eyes for a moment to calm herself, Jessimyn took a few deep breaths. "I don't know exactly why he did what he did, Jenya. It hurts to consider it, but I think it may have been his plan all along, when he found out I had turned Alistair's offer of marriage down."

"What do you mean, _all along,_" she said. "We didn't know about the two of you until..." She grimaced. "Fergus knew, didn't he?" Jenya suddenly looked very tired. "When will I stop being surprised to find out about more lies he's told me." She glanced at Jessimyn. "Still, what you have done..."

"I know," Jessimyn said, feeling as weary as Jenya sounded. "But I swear to you, I had no idea what he had planned. I had no idea Fergus was even capable of doing... such things." She looked out into the garden, where Lyla and Bryce were yelping in glee as Berton chased them around the fountain. It was an absurd sight, yet it made her smile a little. She shook her head, and looked back at Jenya, who was also looking out in the garden.

"What will I tell them?" Jenya asked, her voice mournful. "How will I ever tell them what their father has done? What sort of life will they ever have?" Jessimyn didn't know how to respond, and Jenya turned her attention back to her. "Not that it matters to you. You get to go hide back in your Grey Warden compound, while we will be the ones to suffer. My children will be outcasts. We have to go back to my father's house, to hide out under his protection, while you still get to play at being a hero."

"No one will blame the children for what happened," Jessimyn said, though she wasn't sure she believed her own words. Her mind kept going back to the Howes.

"No?" Jenya asked. "Then why are we being thrown out of our home?"

Jessimyn felt sick to her stomach. "What... what do you mean?"

"Haven't you heard? Castle Cousland is forfeit to the crown, just as the Howe estate in Amaranthine was. I sent word to my father, and he's sending people to come help us get our things back to West Hill." Jenya rubbed her face.

"Alistair would never..." Jessimyn began, but she realized that wasn't true. After all, Fergus had murdered his wife. Did she really think her brother's death would be the end of the punishment for his crime? She looked around. "What will become of it?"

"I don't know," Jenya said. "But it will no longer be the home of the Couslands, I know that much."

Jessimyn felt an ache in her chest. Not only had she lost her family, but she was losing her family's home as well? She turned around slowly, taking it all in. True, she hadn't lived there in over seven years, but it was still home. When she made a full circle, she realized Jenya was watching her.

Jenya let out a sigh. "Was anything he ever told me the truth? We were married for over five years, but did I ever really know him? I loved him, you know."

Jessimyn nodded. "Me, too," she said simply.

Jenya gave her an appraising look. "But that's the difference between us, I think. He may have been the father of my children, but I can't love him anymore, after what he's done. But you can."

"He's... he'll always be my brother. I hate what he's done, of course, but I can't hate him. I almost wish I could," Jessimyn said. "I think it might hurt less if I could."

"I'm not sure you deserve to have it hurt less," Jenya said softly. "You bear at least some responsibility in what has happened."

"I know," Jessimyn said miserably. "But I don't know what to do to atone for it." She gripped Jenya's arms. "Please, Jenya. I know we don't know each other well. I know I've never really been around, but you and Bryce and Lyla are the only family I have anymore. I think we both need the strength of our family right now."

"Yes... that's why I'm going back to West Hill," Jenya responded, but some of the anger left her eyes. She glanced at the children again, then led Jessimyn to a bench that rested against the wall near the door. "Were you there when he... at the Landsmeet?" She asked.

Jessimyn clasped her hands together to keep them from trembling. "Yes."

"Tell me what happened," Jenya said.

"He..." Jessimyn closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. She hoped this would be the last time she would ever have to tell this story. "Alistair brought out the evidence against Fergus, and Fergus denied everything. Then he insisted that the matter be settled by a duel."

"Fergus and Alistair?" Jenya asked.

Jessimyn shook her head. "No. You know they wouldn't have allowed Alistair to fight. Fergus fought for himself, but Alistair had a champion."

"Who?"

Taking a deep breath, Jessimyn looked at Jenya. "Me."

Jenya just looked at her in shocked silence, and Jessimyn sat quietly. Finally, Jenya spoke. "I see." She closed her eyes, and Jessimyn saw the tears that were trying to squeeze out from underneath her lids. She reached for Jenya's hand.

"He betrayed both of us," Jessimyn said softly, feeling the beginning of tears in her own eyes as well. "But I don't think that meant he never loved either of us. He just... Maker, I don't know what happened to him, to make him do something like that. I don't think I want to know." Jessimyn took in a shaky breath. "But he's gone now, and we're both still here. I still want you and Bryce and Lyla in my life, and I hope, with time... you might be able to find a place for me."

The two women looked at each other for a long time before Jenya said, "I suppose you'll be wanting a room for the night, then."

"Rooms," Jessimyn corrected her, a slight smile on her face. "Berton really is just a friend."

Despite the empty appearance of the place, there were still a few servants about. Jenya had her own personal maidservant, a nursemaid for the children, and two cooks. She told Jessimyn that the rest had either left once they heard the estate was being turned over to the crown, or Jenya had sent them away. The dinner they were served that night was simple but filling, and Bryce helped keep things light by regaling them all with the adventures they had gone on in the garden.

"And then," he was telling them as they dishes were being cleared away. "We had to go slay the dragon, but Lyla didn't have a sword, so we had to make a sword. And then we had to climb a mountain. But there was a giant at the top!"

"Giant!" Lyla said, pointing at Berton.

Berton grinned. "I also got to play the part of the dragon. And the mountain, for that matter."

Jessimyn tilted her head to one side, regarding her traveling companion. It seemed he never ceased to surprise her. When he noticed her watching him, he gave her an odd look, and Jessimyn quickly turned away. Luckily, Jenya saved her having to explain herself by announcing that it was well past the children's bedtime. As they were getting up to leave, Bryce smiled at Berton. "Can we play again tomorrow?"

Berton laughed. "Maybe so."

"What's your name again?"

"Berton," he replied.

Bryce turned to Jessimyn. "And what's your name?"

Jenya answered for her. "That's your Aunt Jessimyn, Bryce."

"Oh!" Bryce said brightly. "G'night!"

"Not sleepy," Lyla protested in a tired voice as Jenya led them both back to the family quarters, leaving Jessimyn and Berton alone.

Jessimyn made her way to the guests' quarters of the house. She stopped in front of one of the two rooms that Jenya's maidservant had made up for them. "I'll take this one," she said, gesturing to one room. "You can have the other."

"Did your talk go well?" Berton asked, taking a step closer to her.

"She didn't throw us out, so I suppose that's something," Jessimyn said, trying to keep her voice light. "And she told Bryce who I am." She shrugged. "That's as much as I could ever hope for."

Berton raised a hand, trailing the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Well, whatever happens here, I want you to know that you're not alone in this." He ran his thumb over the bottom of her chin.

Jessimyn turned her head to look away. She felt a little embarrassed by his statement, and she wasn't sure quite how to take it. She didn't see him the same way she had just a few months ago. It made sense to her, in a way, that she had called him _Duncan _that first night out of Denerim. He had sort of stepped into the role of protector, though at least he was smart enough not to act like she actually needed to be protected from anything. Of course, she wondered what he would think, to know she saw him in that way. "Thank you," she replied softly.

Berton gave a light chuckle. "That's what friends are for, right?" He asked, but the look he was giving her was not exactly _friendly_. It was a little bit more than that, and she took a step back.

"Well," Jessimyn said. "Unlike Lyla, I _am _sleepy, so I will see you in the morning," she said before escaping into her room. Eventually she would have to figure out what to do about him. But not yet. Her head was too full of other things to worry about Berton right then.

Over the next few days before Jenya's father's people arrived, the two women found a sort of peace. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that they wouldn't discuss Fergus or Alistair any more, and that seemed to help. When the carriages arrived to take Jenya and the children to West Hill, Berton helped them load them. Jessimyn was surprised to see how little Jenya was taking with her, surprised at how much would be left behind. What would become of it all, she wondered. It hurt to know that some strangers would soon have their hands on her family's possessions, but it was not as if she could take everything with her, either.

Jenya and the children left in the afternoon a week after Jessimyn had arrived. Jessimyn made some excuse to Berton that she didn't want to start traveling in the middle of the day, and that they could leave in the morning, but she knew she really just wanted the chance to be alone in the home that would soon no longer be hers. Berton seemed to understand, and he left her alone as she finally made her way to the family's quarters.

Her old room had been turned into a room for the children, and it had been stripped nearly bare, with only the large furniture still remaining. However, Fergus' room was practically untouched, and it was there she went first. Memories of their life overwhelmed her, and Jessimyn lost a couple hours as she let herself sink into her grief over losing her brother. When she finally came around, Jessimyn dried her eyes and began looking around the room for something to take with her. She wanted something to keep, something to help her remember the good times her family had had, before Howe betrayed them and everything seemed to fall apart. When she saw them, she knew they were what she wanted.

The marble miniatures still rested atop his mantle, and Jessimyn ran her fingers over them lightly. Her own was missing, as she knew it would be, but she didn't care about that. Very carefully, Jessimyn picked up the miniatures of her mother and father, then the one of Fergus. After only a brief hesitation, she picked up the ones of Oriana and Oren as well. As she held them in her hands, she felt the tears returning, and she let herself mourn for all the family she had lost. Clutching the figures to her chest, she turned and went back to the guests' quarters.

She was sure her face was red and puffy, but if it was, Berton made no comment on it. She went into her room, packed the miniatures away carefully, then went to splash some cold water on her face. When she exited the room again, Berton was waiting outside for her.

"We don't have to leave in the morning, if you don't want," he offered. "If you need, we can stay a few extra days."

"No," she said. "I think I'm ready. It's time to go back to Amaranthine."


	75. Zevran Chapter 75

When the message came from Amaranthine, Zevran wanted to leave right away, but Kyran made him wait. "We have to tell the king," the mage implored. "He'll want to know, too."

Every day since she had disappeared, Zevran had cursed himself for not following after Jessimyn when she left the Landsmeet. Whether she had wanted to be alone or not, he should have gone after her. He had been more worried that something had happened to her than he cared to admit. The fact that Berton had gone after her didn't do anything to soothe Zevran's fears. If anything, it only made it worse. Berton was not the man she needed, and in a strange way, he was afraid the trauma of the situation would actually end up binding the two of them closer together.

Zevran wasn't the only one worried about her, though. Leliana was distraught, and Kyran was beside himself that he was separated from her. As for Alistair, well... it was difficult to read the man anymore. Zevran had been furious when he heard what the king had planned for Highever. The man just stood by and let her fight his fight for him, against her own brother no less, and now that she had lost her whole family, he was going to take away her home as well? Was that how a hero was treated in Ferelden? Not that Fergus hadn't deserved his death, of course. It just shouldn't have been at Jessimyn's hand.

So he didn't exactly feel like he owed it to the king to let him know Jessimyn was safe, that she had shown up again in Amaranthine, Berton in tow. The message had come to the compound, after all, not the palace. Besides, Alistair would find out eventually. Why did they have to delay their departure to be the ones to tell him? Zevran had wanted to return to Amaranthine in the first place, but he had let Kyran convince him to stay in Denerim until they heard something. Zevran knew it was likely Jessimyn wouldn't return to Denerim, but Kyran had been so adamant about waiting. If the mage had been better able to manage a horse, and wouldn't have had to travel back on his own, Zevran would have gone on to Amaranthine without him.

But for some strange reason, Kyran always managed to get his way. He was never pushy about it, but Zevran had a hard time telling the man no. So they had waited together in Denerim, and now they stood together in the sitting room, waiting for the king to arrive. Kyran was eying him nervously, and Zevran had a feeling he knew why. He and Alistair had not exchanged pretty words, the last time they had met, and Kyran was likely afraid of another similar exchange. _Well, it was his idea to come in the first place_, Zevran thought.

"You have news?" Alistair demanded when he finally arrived.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kyran jumped in. "There was a letter from Amaranthine this morning. Jessimyn and Berton are there."

"Where else did they go?" Alistair asked. "Surely it didn't take them this long just to get from here to Amaranthine."

If it had been anyone else with her other than Berton, Zevran would have made a jest about just what they might have been up to to keep them busy for so long, but it _had _been Berton with her, so the joke just seemed distasteful. "The letter said they went to Highever," Zevran answered before Kyran had the chance. "I guess she wanted to see it one last time, before yet another piece of her life is taken away from her."

Alistair grimaced. "We're not having this discussion again, Zevran. I did what I had to do."

"Oh?" Zevran asked. "Seems to me you are the king, so you do what you _want _to do, yes? Seems to me you could have just left the Cousland estate in the hands of the teyrna, had you wanted to. But it seems you are not done torturing our lovely friend."

A low growl escaped the king's lips. "Seems to _me_," he spat. "You were the one who came to me about Fergus in the first place. Seems to _me _you wanted him punished as much as I did, once we learned what he had done."

"Of course Fergus deserved his punishment," Zevran said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "But I did not think you would use the opportunity to tear Jessimyn into tiny pieces. First you make her kill her own brother so that you don't have to, and now you would take away her home?"

"I didn't..." Alistair sputtered. "I never meant for that to happen. You _know _that. But if we took Amaranthine away from the Howes, then the Couslands cannot keep Highever. It would not be right, no matter if Jess is... our friend or not. She doesn't even live there anymore anyway. Fergus did, and he is the one deserving of punishment."

"You would punish a corpse?" Zevran asked, a smile on his lips. "I no longer think it matters to him what you do, only to the innocents he leaves behind."

"He... he killed my wife," Alistair stated.

"Yes, so you keep reminding me. Which is funny, since I was the one who told you about it in the first place, no? It's strange, though. You only truly seem interested or concerned about your wife now that she is gone," Zevran observed.

Alistair turned on him, the fury clear in his eyes. "I would suggest you keep your mouth shut about such things."

"You know, I'm glad you've never grown to like me," Zevran said with a cold smile. "I see how you treat your friends, the people you claim to love, and it makes me grateful I do not belong to that group."

"Get out," Alistair demanded in a cold, hard voice.

"With pleasure," Zevran said cheerfully and strolled out of the room. Kyran, however, did not follow immediately, and he ended up having to wait for him. It somewhat spoiled the exit, but at least Alistair was not with him when he came out of the door. Zevran saw Kyran tucking something inside his robe, and he had a feeling Alistair had made him stay behind to give him a letter to deliver to Jessimyn. Well, he would do what he could to make sure she never got it.

The journey back to Amaranthine was not quite as frenzied as the one to Denerim had been. They still wanted to hurry, but there wasn't as great a need to rush, so Zevran was easier on the horse. The people they passed on the road gave them strange looks, probably amused to see two men sharing a horse. Zevran was sure they had gotten such looks on the way there, but he hadn't really noticed at the time. He might have been annoyed if it hadn't embarrassed Kyran so much, and anything that could make the mage turn that lovely shade of red tickled Zevran.

They were two nights out of Denerim when Kyran brought up the conversation with Alistair. "You know he worries about her as much as you do," Kyran said softly. "He's just trying to be a good king."

"No, he's trying to be an ass. And succeeding rather splendidly, wouldn't you say? He only worries about what his precious nobles will think of him, if he seems to show the remaining Couslands any mercy." Zevran snorted.

"But that's to Jessimyn's benefit, don't you see?" Kyran pressed. "He announced to the whole Landsmeet what Fergus' motives were for poisoning the queen. How would it look, to show leniency when many of those nobles think she may have had something to do with it? It might even make some of them think that _he _had something to do with it."

"Or maybe it would show that Alistair did not believe such lies about Jess, that he didn't feel it was right to punish her for her brother's crimes." Zevran shrugged. "But then, what do _I _know of politics?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I guess you and the king are the experts here."

The hurt look on Kyran's face made him immediately regret his words. Before Zevran could say anything else, Kyran held up a hand. "No, it's fine. Obviously we disagree on this, so let's discuss it no further. I'm going to go collect some more firewood." With that, he turned and wandered into the small grove of trees near where they had stopped to make camp.

Zevran sighed, watching him go, but after a moment he realized this would be the perfect time to search for the letter Alistair had given him. He waited until he couldn't see Kyran anymore, and then he ducked into his tent. It was at the top of the mage's pack, so Zevran grabbed it and was back outside by the fire in less than a minute. He made as if to throw it to the flames, but then he stopped. He was curious... with the flick of a finger, he broke the wax seal on the letter and opened it, holding it near the fire to read it.

_Jess, _it began. _I wish you hadn't left the way you did, but I understand why you felt the need to leave. I am so very sorry for the way things have happened, and I am sorry for the pain you must be in right now. I would give anything to be with you right now, but I'm afraid that's not to be. I know you will likely be angry with me for some of the hard decisions I've had to make, but I hope that, in time, you will come to understand why I've done what I've done. All my love, Alistair._

"_All my love_," Zevran scoffed as he crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire. Well, perhaps Kyran was right on one point. The nobles very well might think Alistair was somehow in on the plan to get rid of the queen, if they ever saw that letter. _Idiot, fool of a king_, Zevran thought.

The rest of the trip back to Amaranthine was less eventful. The two men discussed Alistair no further, which kept the peace between them. As soon as they arrived at the estate, Zevran went off in search of Jessimyn. He found her in the library, pouring over a large map and a stack of papers. He glided up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Zev," she said before he could speak. She hadn't even turned around to look at him.

"You knew it was me just by my touch?" He asked, not trying to hide the smile on his face.

Jessimyn turned then in her chair to look up at him. "Well, that and the fact that your armor has this very specific creak to it when you walk."

Zevran frowned. "Does it? I'll have to fix that." He pulled out a chair and sat next to her, taking her hands in his. "Jess, are you..."

She put her fingers over his mouth to silence him. "Yes, I am fine," she said. "Or at least I am making great strides in that direction. But no, I don't want to talk about it."

Zevran nodded. "Very well," he said, then cocked his head at the map. "So what is all this?"

Jessimyn seemed relieved that he simply let it go, but what else did she expect from him? He had never been one to pry... much. "I'm remaking the map of all the darkspawn attacks," she said in answer to his question. "I'm trying to figure out a more exact timeline, trying to figure out the order in which the attacks occurred. Of course, that's even harder than it sounds. I know which ones happened first, or at least which ones were the first we heard of, and we know which ones were the last, but the ones in the middle..." She shook her head.

He wasn't sure what to think about the fact that she had returned to business as usual so quickly. Yes, it had been a month now, but still... He leaned his head in a little closer to her as she explained what she had marked on the map so far, letting his hand rest lightly on her knee. Was it his imagination, or did she tense slightly at that? Well, she didn't pull away from him, so neither did he.

"So what do you plan on doing with this information, once you have it all compiled?" He asked once she'd finished her explanations.

"We're going south again, of course," came Berton's voice from behind him. Zevran turned to see the man staring very pointedly at where his hand was resting, which of course forced him to leave it there.

"But with a larger group," Jessimyn added. "And I'll be the one leading it this time."

Zevran grinned at that. "That's as it should be, then," he said, pleased with the irritated look that crossed Berton's face. "So when do we leave?"


	76. Jessimyn Chapter 76

Jessimyn knocked on the door and opened it when she was invited to enter. "You wanted to see me?" She asked as she closed the door behind her.

Kyran nodded. "I have some things for you," he said. "Or I did, I guess. I guess it's just one thing now, since the other seems to have gone missing." Jessimyn raised her eyebrows at him, and Kyran explained. "Things from... Denerim. The one that has gone missing was a letter." He frowned. "I have a feeling _someone _knew I had it and didn't want you to see it, so he... got rid of it."

"A letter from whom?" Jessimyn asked.

"The king," said Kyran with a sigh. "He asked I give it to you when we got here, but I can't find it." He shrugged. "I think Zevran knew I had it and took it."

"Why would you think that?" Jessimyn asked, though she had an idea of the answer to the question.

"He and the king got into a... an argument, before we left. I don't know, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I just misplaced it." Kyran shrugged again.

"I should probably be grateful either way," she said. "I don't think I want to know what Alistair has to say just now."

Strangely, Kyran seemed almost hurt by that. "But he..."

"I really don't wish to discuss it, Kyran," she said, cutting him off. A coldness began to seep into her, and Jessimyn rubbed her arms. "Some things are just best left alone." Kyran looked away and appeared as if he wanted to say something more. "What was the other thing, then?" She asked before he could continue the conversation.

"Oh, ah... well, technically it's from the king, too, but only sort of. I mean, it wasn't his, but he wanted me to give it to you... if you want it."

Jessimyn smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. Her smiles rarely did anymore. "You're babbling. You can show me what it is, and I can decide if I want it." Kyran nodded and pulled out a large bundle. He unwrapped it slowly, then held it out to her. Jessimyn's breath caught in her throat. "That's... that's Duncan's sword." She reached out her hand slowly to touch the hilt. She knew what Alistair's giving it to her meant, and she almost hated him for it.

Kyran watched her. "He... well, you left your sword at... and the king didn't think you would want it anymore, but he felt you should have a decent sword, and..." He smiled nervously. "I think I'm babbling again."

Jessimyn barely heard him. No, of course she didn't want her old sword anymore. It had almost been like losing an arm, to be parted from the weapon that had been a part of her for so many years, but she couldn't hold onto the instrument responsible for Fergus' death. But Duncan's sword... When they had found it in Ostagar, Jessimyn likely would have kept it for herself if it hadn't held such sentimental value for Alistair. If he had been there in person, trying to give it to her right then, she likely would have dropped it at his feet. But he was _not _there, and she _did _need a new sword... and the one in front of her was more than she could have hoped for on such short notice. Looking at it, it made Jessimyn even more sure she wouldn't have wanted to read whatever he might have written in that letter.

"He would trade me a sword for my home?" She asked bitterly, still not touching it.

"He would give you a sword that means a great deal to him because he knows you have need of it," said Kyran. "He would have you know that _you _mean a great deal to him as well."

Jessimyn snorted. "Did he tell you to say that? No, nevermind. It doesn't matter. I'll take it, but only because I need a sword. It doesn't mean I'm not still angry with him."

Kyran held up his hands. "He is not here, Jessimyn. He won't know, either way, what you decide to do with it."

She took the sword and went back to her own room. They were set to leave in two days, and she wanted her focus on that, not on the man she'd been trying so hard _not _to think about. Though when Alistair did enter her mind, she usually became angry. But if she had to pick an emotion to feel, anger was better than many of the alternatives. She gave the sword a swing, then set it on her bed. It _was _a good weapon. She just wished it hadn't come from him, hadn't been something that meant something to him. Jessimyn shook her head and walled off those thoughts in her mind. She was becoming better at that lately, shutting out the things she didn't want to think about.

Instead, she turned her attention to the maps scattered about her room and the journey she was about to set out on. She was taking all of her previous group, with the exception of Joffey of course, as well as seven other Grey Wardens. Jax, Badek, Colm, and Gyll were all from Ferelden and had been recruited within the last five years. Ethan and Thom were Wardens from Orlais who had been some of the first to move into the estate in Amaranthine. Daniel, the final member of her new party, was newly arrived from the Free Marches, but Berton knew him and spoke highly of him.

After weeks of work, Jessimyn had managed to get her map as she wanted it. She would be leading the group to the place of the first known attack, and they would be moving from place to place in the order she had determined the attacks took place. There had been no further news of darkspawn activity since they had last been in the south, but that didn't mean they weren't still on the move. Jessimyn fully intended to find out exactly what was going on, no matter how long it took.

The night before they were set to leave, Jessimyn retired to her room early. She had some last-minute packing to do, but she was also realizing that she preferred to spend more time alone lately. It was difficult to relax with the other Wardens, to sit around and laugh and joke when she didn't feel like laughing much anymore. She had pulled everything out of her bag and was repacking it for the third time when there was a knock at the door. She had barely just glanced up when the door swung open, and Zevran entered.

Jessimyn quirked her lips into a smile. "Oh, hello Zev. Please, do come in."

He grinned. "Don't mind if I do."

Zevran took a seat on the corner of her bed, and when he didn't say anything, Jessimyn just went back to packing. After a little while, she looked up to see him watching her, a faint smile on his face. She raised her eyebrows at him. "Was... there something you needed."

His smile widened. "Need? Perhaps that is too strong a word, but there is something I _want_, yes."

With a smirk, Jessimyn went back to her packing, and Zevran went back to his watching. Once everything was once again in her pack, she set it on the floor, near where her armor and weapons waited. Zevran's eyes seemed to be drawn to the sword. "Is that what I think it is?" He asked.

"A sword, yes," Jessimyn said.

"So witty you are, my dear Jessimyn," he said, standing up to take a closer look. He picked it up, gave it a few swings, then held it out in front of him to test the balance. "Where did you get this?"

Jessimyn sat on the bed. "From Kyran."

Zevran put the sword back. "Ah, of course. Quite the little messenger he is."

Turning her head to watch him as he moved to sit next to her, Jessimyn smiled a little. "Though I hear you have thwarted some of his efforts. He told me he had a letter for me, but he thinks you stole it before he had a chance to deliver it." His look of outraged innocence made her chuckle. "Oh, come off it. It sounds exactly like something you would do. It's fine, though. I haven't been in the mood for... letters lately."

Zevran trailed his fingers up her arm. "You haven't really been in the mood for much lately," he said, then grinned at the face she made. "I don't mean that. Well, not _just _that, anyway. I just meant that you've been keeping to yourself too much lately, depriving us all of your beautiful presence."

She looked away. "It seems everyone either expects me to be my usual, chipper self," she said those words with the sarcasm they deserved. "Or they expect me to be so distraught that I'm unable to function at all."

"Oh?" Zevran asked. "And which one am I?"

Jessimyn smiled. "The first, of course. You never were one for tears."

His fingers brushed her cheek. "I've never been one for pretending. I don't expect you to put on a pretty smile for me because I can see your eyes, and they don't smile. Of course I want you to be back to your charming self, but not because you've learned to fake it." His fingers moved to the back of her neck, up into her hair.

"Yes, well... that's going to take time, Zev," she said softly.

With a nod, he replied, "Yes, I know. Longer if you hold everything in, keep everything to yourself."

She leaned her head into him. Zevran had always been good with his hands, and the slight movements of his fingers on the back of her head eased some of the tension she hadn't even realized she was carrying with her. "What else am I supposed to do?" She asked, cursing herself for the pathetic tone in her voice. "How can I explain the loss that I feel when no one can understand? You all see Fergus as a monster, but he was my brother. Even his own wife hates him, but I just can't."

"I have mourned the loss of many monsters, Jess," Zevran said. "So maybe I understand better than most."

He shifted on the bed so that he was kneeling behind her, both hands working to massage her neck. Jessimyn tilted her head down and closed her eyes. "Maybe you do," she murmured softly as she pushed away everything but the feel of his hands.

Zevran stayed late into the night but was gone long before the sun came up, which was when the group was set to leave Amaranthine. Jessimyn felt a little groggy, but at the same time was strangely invigorated to be leaving, to be doing something. She set a strong, steady pace from the beginning, and her group of twelve made good time. There were some complaints when she refused to stop in Denerim, but she ignored them. There was no way she was setting foot in the city, and when the others saw she was not going to be persuaded otherwise, they gave up their protests.

The site of the first attack was in the Brecilian Forest, north of Gwaren, and it was there they headed. They spent over a month in the forest before moving west towards South Reach, then north, across the Imperial Highway, to stop briefly in the Bannorn, before going south again into the Southron Hills. From there, they headed west, into the Hinterlands, further almost all the way to the Frostback Mountains, before heading east again. Summer had long since passed away, as had autumn and winter, and it was well into spring when they finally made it to the farmhouse where Kyran had first seen the magical residue. They had neither heard of nor seen any further darkspawn activity in the months since they had been gone from Amaranthine, despite their many side trips into nearby villages and towns for supplies.

It was a warm night, and the group was sitting out by their fire, on the way to the last set of farmhouses, where they had originally found Lylimet's tracks. "Okay, show me what you've got, Jess," Colm said.

"You don't have to show me," Berton said with a grin. "I've already seen it."

"Hmm... as have I," said Zevran with an identical grin on his face.

"Ooh, I have, too," said Kyran, though he was blushing just a bit while he said it.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Jessimyn growled as she threw down her cards, which just made all of the men laugh even harder than they already were.

For months, Berton had said nothing of their little encounter in the camp on their way from Denerim to Highever. She had foolishly thought he was just going to let it go, but apparently he had only been waiting for her to be recovered enough that he wouldn't feel guilty for teasing her. The first time Zevran had heard him make a comment about it, he had dragged Jessimyn aside, demanding to know what had happened. She had thought he would be mad, but when she finally told him what had happened, about her propositioning Berton, Zevran had howled with laughter. As such things usually went, once Zevran knew something, Kyran seemed to suddenly know it as well, and following the natural progression of things, once more than two people knew a thing, everyone knew.

Everyone seemed to take as much delight in teasing her about it as Berton did, and it had almost become a game to see who could cleverly fit it into conversation. They actually fit it into conversation quite a bit, though it was rarely clever. Jessimyn stood up, and all the men looked up from their own cards, grins on their faces. She just rolled her eyes and walked away from the fire, ignoring the soft laughter behind her.

The sun had set, but the moon was near full and provided plenty of light as she wanted into the trees around the camp. She kept the camp in view but was far enough away that she couldn't hear much of the card game still going on. Normally their comments wouldn't irritate her as much as they were lately, but she had grown more and more frustrated over the past couple of months. They had been gone from Amaranthine for almost a year and had nothing to show for it. Jessimyn hadn't exactly expected to find the darkspawn or their mystery mage, but she had hoped to gain an understanding of where they were going, or why they moved around like they did.

Jessimyn tilted her head up and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze on her face. The trip hadn't been a total loss, however. Surrounded by a close group of friends as she had been, it had allowed her to heal, to adjust to the knowledge that her family and home were gone. She was still angry with Alistair when she thought about it, but she rarely let herself think of him. Taking a deep breath, Jessimyn turned to go back to the camp when she she felt a strange, tickling feeling. They were moving so fast, she only had a moment of warning before the group of darkspawn were upon her.


	77. Jessimyn Chapter 77

Jessimyn had only barely reached a hand up to grab for her sword when the hurlock slammed into her. If she had had her old sword, it would have been out of her sheath and in her hand, but she forgot it was a different sword, with a different grip, and the extra couple of seconds it took to get her hand on the pommel was enough. She was thrown to the ground, the hurlock falling with her, pinning her weapons at her back, while her left hand was trapped between their bodies. Only peripherally did Jessimyn notice that the other darkspawn were speeding past her, moving faster than she had ever seen them move. The hurlock atop her seemed only to notice her because she was right in front of its eyes.

But once its attention was turned from running to the human trapped beneath it, it snarled like a feral animal and sank its teeth into her neck and shoulder. Her armor blocked some of the attack, but she screamed when she felt its teeth bite into her skin. She released the pommel of her sword, which she was still holding, and slammed her fist into the hurlock's head, but it didn't even seem to notice. The creature grabbed her by the hair, and Jessimyn thought it was going to pull her upright, thus freeing her weapons, but it lifted her head up only enough to slam it back down on the ground. Stars danced in front of her eyes, and distantly, she could hear the sounds of fighting and knew that no one would be coming to look for her for a while.

Jessimyn raised her free hand in front of her face, trying to offer herself some protection as it bit at her again, this time latching onto the side of her face. Pain slammed into her as she heard her jaw snap, and she battted wildly at the side of the hurlock's head. Suddenly, she remembered the little latch hidden on the inside of her gauntlets, the little modification Zevran had made to them so long ago. Placing her hand at the side of the darkspawn's neck, she flicked the trigger with her thumb, and the hidden blade popped out with enough force that it was driven into the hurlock's throat. It let out a low growl and jerked back, allowing her other hand enough freedom that she hit the latch on her other gauntlet and drove the second hidden blade into the creature's stomach. She jerked her left hand up, pulling her blade through the hurlock's meaty stomach until it hit bone. Blood bubbled from its mouth, and it collapsed on top of her.

Relief only lasted a moment when she realized she was pinned. Pain lanced through her shoulder when she tried to shove the thing off her, but Jessimyn nearly passed out when she attempted to move her head to look in the direction of the camp. Straining to listen, she could still hear fighting, but it seemed to have lessened. Well, that or she really was losing consciousness. Jessimyn forced herself to lie very still, with nothing to focus on other than the pain radiating from her jaw into her neck and head.

She must have blacked out because the next thing she knew, the weight of the hurlock was suddenly gone. A strangled voice gasped out, "Oh, Maker..." and her eyes opened to see Berton standing above her, a look of horror on his face. "Kyran!" He shouted. "_Kyran!_"

Attempting to make light of the situation, Jessimyn tried to tell him she probably looked worse than she actually was, but that one small movement of her mouth sent her tumbling back into darkness. When she came to once more, Kyran was the one standing over her, his hands over her neck. "Don't try to speak," he said in a rush when he noticed she was awake. "And don't move."

The pain in her jaw seemed to ease to a low throbbing, and Kyran slumped backwards, letting his hands fall away. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he reached into his pack, retrieving a vial filled with red liquid. He peeled the wax away from around the cork, opened it, then placed a hand gently behind the back of her neck. "Drink this, Jessimyn," he said as he tilted it up to her lips.

She always hated the taste of his healing potions, but she did her best to drink it. The lukewarm liquid splashed over her face, leaving a sticky trail down her neck, but when it hit the wound on her shoulder, it seemed to ease some of the pain there as well. Once the bottle was empty, Kyran again leaned back. When she struggled to sit up, she felt a hand on her back and another set of hands on her wrists. The world seemed to swim around her for a moment.

"Careful," said Zevran, sliding the exposed blades back into place on her gauntlets. He then went about removing them, eyes focused on the task.

Jessimyn slowly turned her head to see Berton behind her, his hand still on her back, and the others were encircled around her. No one would quite look her in the eye... or did they just not want to look at her face? Once her hands were free of the gauntlets, Jessimyn ran her trembling fingers over her jaw, lightly touching the new scar tissue on her lower cheek and neck.

"I'm not done healing..." Kyran began.

"Is anyone else hurt?" Jessimyn asked, cutting him off.

"None as bad as..." Colm shrugged.

"I'm fine," Jessimyn lied and attempted to stand, but Berton's hands on her shoulders kept her seated. "Let me up," she said.

Kyran leaned in again, his hands hovering over her, and Jessimyn closed her eyes. She felt a strange tugging at her jaw. When it stopped, she opened her eyes to see Kyran sitting back again, a weary expression on his face. Her fingers found the scar again. It didn't feel as thick and knotted as before, but it was definitely still there. Tilting her head allowed her to see the wound on her shoulder, from the first bite, where there was now a long, angry scar. Did her face look as bad as that? Well, there was no use worrying over it. Jessimyn shrugged Berton's hands off of her and got to her feet.

"Just give me a moment," Kyran said from where he was still sitting.

Shaking her head, Jessimyn said, "No. I won't have you exhausting yourself for my vanity." She rotated her arm, confirming that she had full motion. "Arm and jaw both seem to work fine."

"What was that?" Jax asked, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I mean... I know those were darkspawn, but I've never heard of them acting like that before. If we hadn't pulled out our weapons and attacked, it seemed like they would have just run right past us."

Jessimyn nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "I've never seen them move that fast." She kicked the body of the hurlock at her feet. "This one probably wouldn't have even seen me except that it ran right into me."

Berton frowned, looking back towards the camp. "What were they running after?" He looked back at Jessimyn. "Did you see anything come out of the woods before they showed up."

She shook her head. "Nothing. But I wouldn't expect to. I don't think they were running _after _something, I think they were running _from _something."

Berton gave her an appraising look, but it was Badek who spoke. "But that... that's crazy."

"Everything about what's been going on the last few years has seemed crazy," Jessimyn replied. She gestured the way the darkspawn had come. "But as quickly as they were moving, and as many of them as there were, I'm sure they've left us an easy trail to follow. So everyone to bed. I want to be after them at first light."

As they walked back to camp, Jessimyn grimaced. The movements of her limbs made her realize she was covered in blood, some hers, most not. It covered her armor, but it was also in her hair, on her skin, everywhere. She stopped at the edge of camp. "Kyran?" He turned to her. "Would you mind going into my tent and grabbing a clean tunic and leggings, along with my cloak, and my soap?"

"That stream we passed earlier is at least a mile away," Zevran said with a grin as he moved to stand next to them.

"I'm well aware," Jessimyn said. "I think it's worth the walk."

Zevran chuckled. "Oh, I won't argue that with you. You do look a fright. But you can't go alone." Jessimyn narrowed her eyes at him, and he just smiled back at her. "Kyran and I will go with you. Safety in numbers and all that."

Jessimyn glanced at Kyran and was surprised to see that the man wasn't blushing. In fact, he seemed to be noticeably less shy around Zevran of late. Well, no matter. "Fine, I don't care. I just want to get this gunk cleaned off."

The attack seemed to have sobered everyone, so at least there were no "clever" comments made about Jessimyn going to bathe with two other people for company. In fact, the others were busy clearing the darkspawn bodies from the campsite. Only Berton really seemed to notice that they were leaving, but he didn't say anything, unless narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the other two men counted as saying something. Kyran carried her things for her as they walked. She kept catching him glancing at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Is it really that bad?" She asked.

"No. What?" Kyran asked.

Jessimyn touched her jaw. She knew that, if the stream was calm enough, she could catch her reflection, but she wasn't sure she wanted to see. Her scars had never really bothered her before, and she had many of them, but none on the face, none that would be visible to everyone. Was it vanity that made her worry what she looked like? She had never considered herself beautiful by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd always thought she was at least somewhat pretty. It was difficult to push such thoughts from her mind, no matter how much she knew they had better things to think about just then. After all, what would... no, it didn't matter what _other people _thought of her. Did it?

"It's barely even noticeable," Kyran responded.

"It's noticeable," Zevran countered, earning a glare from the mage. "Well, it is. She has eyes, she will see for herself. But it follows your jawline for the most part." He smiled at her. "It doesn't mar your beauty, if that's what you're worried about."

Of course, she wanted to deny she'd even thought anything like that, but she couldn't, so Jessimyn just let it go. Zevran was right; she would see for herself soon enough. Once they got to the stream, Jessimyn peeled her armor off and left it with the men, who said they would work on cleaning it for her while she washed up. They kept their backs to her, allowing her privacy while she lowered herself into the cold water. There was not enough light to get a good look at her face, but she could definitely make out the angry red line across her jaw. It took four washings to get her hair completely cleaned, but by the time she had climbed out and put on her clean tunic and leggings, her armor was clean as well. After slipping it back on, the three of them made their way back to camp.

On the return trip, Jessimyn practiced drawing her new sword. Kyran eyed her curiously for a while. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Is that why the darkspawn caught you offguard?" Zevran asked.

Jessimyn nodded. "Yes." To Kyran, she answered, "I'm not used to the sword, and I guess I need to practice drawing it. I've had it for almost a year now, but I've never really had to use it, at least not in a situation like that. Foolish on my part, and it nearly got me killed."

When they got back to camp, everyone was in their tent other than Berton, who was taking first watch. "Kitten," he called to her, and she walked over to him. Kyran and Zevran went to their tents. "Are you all right?" He asked once she had sat down next to him. His fingers reached for her face, and she drew back. The fingers gave chase, and he succeeded in touching her when she could lean back no further. He drew his thumb over her chin, a move he had made many times before, but it had extra significance now that he was lightly touching her new scar. In fact, it seemed strangely more intimate than usual.

"I'm fine," she said, gently pushing his hand away.

"When I saw you on the ground like that, I thought you were..." He shook his head and gave her a smile. "I'm glad you're all right. Now follow your own advice, and go get some sleep."

In the morning they were packed up and ready to march as soon as the sun made it over the horizon. The path the darkspawn had left behind was easy to follow, but it just kept going. They camped, marched, camped and marched, but still saw no end of the trail.

"It doesn't make any sense," Jessimyn grumbled, and the others laughed lightly. Nothing about what they were seeing made sense, and that had seemed to become their catchphrase. "To leave a trail like this, they had to have been running full out, but they would have had to have been doing it for days. What could drive them to that?"

"What could scare them enough?" Berton added.

It was nearly a week after their run in with the darkspawn that they found the answer to that. The trail ended, or rather started, in a large, open field. When they got to the edge of it, they all stopped and stared in horror. There were bodies everywhere, and not all of them were darkspawn. There were a number of men, or at least pieces of them, scattered all about, but it was what was in the center of the field that made Jessimyn's blood run cold in fear. They all seemed drawn towards it, moving past the bodies to inspect it closer.

There was a frame of some sort set up in the middle of the field with two bodies attached to it. Both were headless, but one was clearly a man, while the other was a hurlock. Their naked bodies were painted with strange symbols, which seemed to have been done in blood. "What does it mean?" Jessimyn asked, then turned to look for Kyran. He still stood at the edge of the field, his hands pressed to his stomach. Jessimyn went back to him, Zevran at her side. "Magic, I assume?" She asked.

"Evil," he said in a whisper. "Oh, Maker. I don't know what was done here, but it was evil."

"How much evil do you need to scare off a band of darkspawn?" Jessimyn wondered aloud, turning to look at the others.

"Found the heads," Gyll called out, and the other men moved towards him. Jessimyn wasn't interested to see until Ethan reacted, stumbling back only a few feet before he got violently ill. She and Zevran walked over to him, though Kyran stayed where he was.

"What is it?" Gyll asked. "They're no worse than anything else here."

"I know him," Ethan said in a hoarse whisper. "He was a Grey Warden. From Orlais." He looked around at the other bodies strewn about. "Maker, I think they all were. What were they doing here?"


	78. Jessimyn Chapter 78

"So what do we do now?"

Jessimyn looked up from where she was sitting by the fire. It was the first thing anyone had said since they made camp, and she wasn't quite sure who had spoken. The deaths of so many Grey Wardens had hit them all hard. That group of men could have just as easily have been their own. Of course, no one spoke those words, but Jessimyn was pretty sure everyone was thinking it.

They had spent time in the field, looking for anything that might tell them what had gone on there, but there had been nothing to find. Ethan had gone to stand next to Kyran at the edge of the treeline, neither willing to venture in any further. The tracks left behind by the group of Grey Wardens had been easy enough to find, coming from the west. Darkspawn tracks seemed to range all around. Many of the others had suggested following one trail or the other as they hiked away from the field to make camp for the night. None of them had wanted to sleep too close to so much death.

"We head north," Jessimyn answered. She was quickly overcome by protestations.

"North?" Thom asked. "Why not west? The Wardens' trail came from that direction."

"None of the trails we found came from the north," Jax added.

"What's north?" Daniel added.

"Redcliffe," Jessimyn said. "We need to get word to Amaranthine about what happened here. We need them to contact the Warden compound in Val Royeaux, to find out why they sent Wardens into Ferelden without telling us."

"Isn't Lothering closer?" Jandin asked.

"Probably, yes," she said. "But Lothering isn't a major city. We might be able to find a bird that will go to Amaranthine, but I'm not sure Amaranthine will have a bird that will fly back. I know for certain Redcliffe will have birds." She shrugged her shoulders. "Besides, we'll be stuck in one place for a while. A month at least, if not longer. Staying at the inn in Lothering will get costly, while the Arl in Redcliffe will put us up in the estate there."

"Ah yes," Zevran said with a smile. "Arl Teagan. I'm sure he will be so pleased to see you... us again."

"Do you have a better suggestion for us?" She snapped at him.

Zevran held his hands up, his smile widening. "Oh, no, your plan seems very... practical."

"So we hear from the other Wardens in Orlais," Ethan said softly. "Then what? We could sit there a year, trying to get Amaranthine to send messages back and forth."

"That's why we're going to ask for them to send a group to meet with us. Probably in West Hill. We can take a boat across the lake from Redcliffe and be in West Hill in about the time it will take for them to sail there." Jessimyn looked at each man in turn. "I know you all want to go chasing after what did this, but the trail is cold. The Wardens' tracks could lead us all the way back to Orlais for all we know, and what good will it do us to try and follow the trails left by darkspawn we've already killed? Maybe the Orlesians know something we don't. For all we know, they've sent word to Amaranthine already, but it arrived sometime after we left." She lowered her voice. "We all saw what happened back there. I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen to us, or to anyone else." There were no further complaints, and Jessimyn ordered everyone to their tents.

By the time they reached Redcliffe, everyone was exhausted. They'd been keeping a hard pace for weeks, and they were ready for a rest. Teagan and Elda welcomed everyone into the estate, offering rooms for all. Jessimyn had been scripting the letter she would send to Amaranthine in her head over the past week, so she asked to send the message right away. Once that was done, she went up to the room where a servant had taken her things. She was about to splash water from the basin onto her face when she stopped, noticing the scarring in the reflection. Her hand seemed to reach for the hand mirror before she had even thought about it, and it was brought up to her face. The tears that tried to form in her eyes brought a curse from Jessimyn's lips. This was ridiculous; _this _was not something to cry over. Maker, she was stronger than that.

Holding the mirror up, Jessimyn forced her eyes to look at the scars along her chin. Zevran was right, it was definitely noticeable. And it wasn't a clean line, either. It seemed clear enough to her that it was a bite, from a rather large set of teeth. There were two rows of marks, one just above her jaw, on her lower cheek, and another below, under her chin and less visible. Kyran's healing had left them a pale pink, the color of an old scar rather than the bright red of a newer one. She shuddered to think what it might have looked like without his healing. Tears threatened to fall again, and Jessimyn squeezed her eyes shut. Well, she wouldn't have to worry about men thinking her beautiful anymore. The thought brought a harsh laugh to her lips.

Still, if she held her head just right, the scars were less visible. Tilting her head down just a little and to the left, one would barely be able to see them, if they were looking at her straight on. And someone who was taller than her wouldn't be able to see them much at all. Plus, if she wore her hair down... Jessimyn made a disgusted face and put the mirror away.

She knew that dinner was being made for all of them, but she suddenly didn't feel very hungry and opted for a bath instead. Then, she took her time going through her pack, making piles of the things that needed to be washed. It was late when the knock came at her door, but the person standing on the other side was no one she would have expected. Elda stood there, smiling, carrying a tray of food in her hands. The arlessa's eyes glanced at the scar briefly before she pulled them away. Jessimyn quickly took the tray from her.

"My lady," Jessimyn said. "You needn't have troubled yourself. It's hardly proper..."

Elda laughed softly. "Yes, the servants in the kitchens were appalled when I told them I'd be taking the tray myself. I'll admit, though, it was really just a ploy so that I could speak with you alone. I hope you don't mind."

Setting the tray on a table, Jessimyn turned her attention back to the arlessa. "Of course not. Although I'm not sure you necessarily needed a _ploy _to speak with me. We are in your home, after all."

Elda laughed again and took a seat near the window, and Jessimyn followed. "I know we don't know each other well..." She chuckled and shook her head. "Or at all, really. I guess I feel like I know you a little. Teagan has spoken of you quite a bit, as have many of the other knights in Redcliffe. In fact, everyone here still talks about all of the things you did to save this town. I guess I just wanted you to know..." She grimaced, as if trying to find the right words. "We were there, Teagan and I, at the Landsmeet. What you did was so heartbreaking and tragic, but so brave. I can't imagine..." She shook her head. "We want you to know that we don't believe that any of the fault of what happened to the queen lies on your shoulders."

Jessimyn just looked at her, a stunned expression on her face. "Are there many, then, who _do _think that?" She asked after a moment.

A pained look crossed Elda's face. "You... didn't know. Of course you didn't. What a fool I am."

"Not a fool," Jessimyn said gently. "I've been traveling with the other Wardens over the past year, so I haven't heard much news or gossip, but I would want to know what it is, if it concerns me. Please, tell me what people are saying."

"It... well, it mainly comes from Wulff, and the only nobles in agreement are those around him, in the south. Though the arl of South Reach has made his disagreement with the teyrn known over this, saying that with all the good you've done for Ferelden and for South Reach in particular, he doesn't believe you could have had a hand in anything... like that." Elda sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up hard topics, especially after you just arrived, but I assumed that your not being at dinner was because you were worried about what we might think. I never thought that you might not have heard the gossip going around."

"It's all right," Jessimyn assured her. "I... appreciate your concern, and your support of me."

Elda gave her a smile and stood. "Well, we will have more chances to speak in the next few days and weeks, I'm sure. For now, I'll let you eat and get some rest."

Jessimyn made sure she was up for breakfast the next morning, joining the others in the main dining hall. Elda had a way about her, and soon everyone seemed relaxed and like they were enjoying themselves, even the men who had never been around nobility before and had been nervous before they arrived in Redcliffe. Over the next few days, Jessimyn grew to like Elda quite a bit. It was funny, but she'd almost forgotten what it was like, to be around other women. It was a pleasant change to the crass ways of her traveling companions.

About a week after arriving, Jessimyn was sitting by herself in the library. It was a quiet place where she could relax but still be found if anyone came looking for her. She was usually there in the library, or out in the yards with the other men. Of course, the men were only in the yards half the time. Otherwise, they were down in the village. At the tavern, Jessimyn guessed, though she never went down with them. A shadow passed in front of the light, and she looked up to see Berton taking a seat next to her on the couch, draping his hand over the back of it so that it was almost around her, although he didn't touch her. Yet. He always seemed to eventually, whether she wanted him to or not. Jessimyn placed a marker in her book and shut it, setting it aside as she looked at him.

"Not that I'm not grateful for the break," Berton began. "But why are we waiting in Redcliffe? If you sent word to Amaranthine that you want the Orlesians to meet us in West Hill, why don't we just... go there and wait for them?"

"What if they've already received word from the Orlesians? What if they've sent a group to Amaranthine? I want to make sure they're going to send our message on to Val Royeaux before we head to West Hill," Jessimyn said.

"And why West Hill?" Berton asked. "Because that's where Jenya and the children are?"

"Besides Highever, it's really the only major town on the northern shore with a large port," she replied. "But yes, if given the chance, I would like to see them. I can't mend things between myself and Jenya if we're never around each other."

Berton was looking at her closely, and she tilted her head away from him. "Don't do that," he said softly.

"Don't do what?"

A finger under her chin tilted her head up so that she was looking at him straight on. "Please don't try to hide your face. Not from me. You don't ever have to hide from me, kitten." The thumb that he normally ran over her chin moved up to trail lightly across her bottom lip. The move was way too intimate, causing Jessimyn to gasp softly. His fingers placed soft pressure on her cheek, as if to draw her to him, and Berton leaned in towards her.

The sound of a cleared throat came from the doorway. Berton turned to look, but Jessimyn was still too startled to do so. She watched the irritated look cross over his face before his hand fell away. "Uh... I was hoping to speak with you, Jessimyn," came a voice, and she turned to see Teagan standing there. "In private," he added.

Without a word, Berton stood and left the library, leaving Jessimyn alone with Teagan. She gave him an expectant look, and he took the seat that Berton had vacated. "Something you needed?" She asked, trying not to make it obvious when she scooted a little away from him.

"I wanted to thank you, actually," he said in a strange voice. "For, you know... being discreet. With Elda."

The comment sent a little spark of anger through her. It was fanned by the knowledge that Berton would likely just think that they had been interrupted, that he would likely try to kiss her again later. She narrowed her eyes at Teagan. "And what exactly is there between us that would require discretion?"

Teagan gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, you know. About our... relationship." The last word was whispered.

"We don't have a _relationship_, Teagan. Nor have we ever had one," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sure, it's been a while, but..." he began.

"No," Jessimyn said, cutting him off. "We slept together one time, years ago. And it was..." She was going to say _a mistake_, but that seemed too harsh. "...it was nothing more than two lonely people needing a little companionship. It was never anything more than that, and you know that."

"I don't know if I would say _that,_" Teagan said.

"Oh, really?" Jessimyn peered at him. "You know, the last time we were in Redcliffe, when you were still on your way back from Denerim, I heard rumors about you and a certain woman from town. Rumors about things that happened before you were married, of course. What was her name... Kaitlyn, was it? Seems I remember someone with that name from the village. But anyway... would you claim you also had a relationship with her?"

"Of course not," Teagan said, almost sounding insulted. "She was just..."

"Just what?" Jessimyn prompted when he trailed off. "Just a commoner? Just a one time thing? Just another lonely person in need of companionship? What you had with her was likely more than anything we ever shared." She shook her head. "I have mentioned nothing to Elda because there is nothing to mention. Besides, I happen to like your wife... though I'm not sure you deserve her."

Teagan laughed at that. "Well... you're probably right there. Anyway, I just... well... right." He grinned at her. "Forgive me for interrupting you and your companion."

"He's just a friend," she said, wincing that she had felt the need to justify anything to him.

The grin only seemed to widen. "Oh, is that so? Well, then. I apologize even more, for interrupting the moment when it was going to move beyond friendship."

"Berton was just... looking at my scar, to see how it's healing," she said.

"If you say so," Teagan said with a smile. "I'll leave you to your book, then. And if I see your... friend in the hallway, I'll send him back in." He stood and left without a further word.

Jessimyn placed a hand on her book but didn't pick it up. No longer in the mood to read, much more in the mood to beat on things, Jessimyn went to her room to change into her armor, then went outside to the practice yards. Zevran was in the center, sparring with Badek. It seemed all of the other men were standing around watching, including Berton. The look he gave her was not one she wanted to see on his face, so she went to stand next to Kyran. When it was her turn, she moved to the center of the yard, working through her irritation as she beat on her fellow Grey Wardens. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Berton had not also changed into his armor, so he couldn't participate as well.

Later that night, as she was retiring to her room, she noticed that Berton, who once again had the room across the hall from her, had left his door open just a crack. Whether that was meant as an invitation, or he was just watching for her return, she didn't know, but she ducked quickly into her own room. But as she crawled into her own bed, a wave of sadness washed over her. No, maybe that wasn't the right word. Loneliness is what she felt. What she had said to Teagan had been true, but she still felt lonely and in need of companionship, and had for years now it seemed. Jessimyn found herself thinking back to years before, during the Blight, when Alistair was always at her side, both in battle and in bed. She still held onto her anger for him, though she knew that some of it was irrational, but it wasn't her anger she thought about as she lay in her bed. No, that setting was better suited for other memories of him, happier memories, naked-er memories. It took a little longer than normal to fall asleep that night.

The next few weeks were spent either in the company of Elda or out in the practice yards. Berton had tried to get her alone a few more times, but she'd been successful in avoiding it. The man made her feel too many conflicting emotions. Finally, a little over a month after they had arrived, they had a bird back from Amaranthine. The letter, written in Herich's familiar hand, told them that they had heard nothing from Orlais, and that he had sent a letter on to their main compound in Val Royeaux, asking a group of Wardens to meet them in West Hill. He said he also sent a bird to West Hill, informing them of the two groups of Wardens who would be converging on their city.

Two days later, they were set to leave Redcliffe. Jessimyn actually felt a little sad that they were leaving, as she had grown quite fond of Elda, with whom she had developed an easy friendship. Still, duty called, and there was nothing to do but follow. The trip across Lake Calenhad was peaceful enough, but Kyran seemed to grow agitated the closer they got to the Circle Tower.

"They can't do anything to you," Jessimyn told him one evening, pulling him aside from the others. "You're a Grey Warden now. You don't belong to them any longer."

He gave her a nervous laugh. "Is it that obvious?" He shook his head. "From the moment you took me away from there, I've never wanted to go back. I guess I just didn't realize how bothered I would be just being close to it again."

"Do you think you'll ever tell me what happened there?" She asked gently. "Not right now, necessarily, but someday?"

Kyran hesitated before answering. "I don't know. It's not that I don't trust you, Jessimyn, because you know I do. You know I would give my life for you, and I know you would do the same for me. There are just some things better left in the past. I've dealt with the pain of what happened to me there as best I can, and I'm not sure I want to bring it all back up again."

Jessimyn nodded, putting an arm around him, glad to see that he didn't flinch from her touch. She decided to push it and pulled him into a hug. Kyran surprised her by awkwardly returning the embrace.

From the docks, they made good time to West Hill. It was midday when they arrived at the gates of the city and began the trek through the streets to the arl's estate, which sat at the top of a large hill near the shore. Many people stopped and stared at the procession of Grey Wardens, and the gate guards at the estate quickly showed them in. They had only just made it inside when Jessimyn saw Jenya making her way towards them. She must have had a page sent to tell her as soon as they arrived. Jessimyn braced herself, but the greeting she received was definitely not the one she had been expecting.


	79. Jessimyn Chapter 79

"Jessimyn!" Jenya called out as soon as she was close enough, and then her sister-in-law's arms were around her, pulling into a hug so fierce it nearly knocked her off balance. The men glanced at each other and stepped back, giving the two women room. "I'm so glad it's you," she said. "When we got word Grey Wardens were coming, I had so hoped you would be one of them, and then when the page came, telling us that the group of Wardens who entered the city had a woman in their group, I knew it had to be you." Jenya barked out orders to the waiting servants, telling them to show the men to their rooms, to take Jessimyn's things to her own room, and then she was pulling Jessimyn down the hall.

Her shock at the greeting kept Jessimyn from doing anything more than follow. The most she had hoped was that Jenya would be at least tolerant of her presence in her home, but this... What had changed, she wondered, from when they had last seen each other? Jenya clutched her hand as they wound their way through the estate but she didn't speak. Before she knew it, her sister-in-law was pulling her into her sitting room, the door shut tight behind her.

Once they were alone, Jenya dropped her hand and gestured to a chair. "Please, sit. I'm already having some of my servants fill a bath for you, and they'll let us know when it's ready. I hope you don't..." She stopped, her eyes suddenly drawn to the scar. "Maker, what happened?" She asked.

Jessimyn tilted her head away from her a little. "Darkspawn," she said simply.

"Maker," Jenya repeated. "You know, sometimes I forget that you live a completely different life from the one I have. I forget that you're not sitting somewhere, in your own estate, surrounded by the same frivolities that I am. You're actually... out there. In danger, so it would seem."

Jessimyn had no idea what to say. Every word out of Jenya's mouth only seemed to confuse her more. "It's not _so _dangerous," she finally said.

A short elven woman dressed in servant's clothing poked her head out a side door. "My lady," she said.

"Ah," said Jenya. "Your bath is ready. Come along."

Jessimyn could do nothing else but follow Jenya through the side door. A large copper tub, filled with steaming water, sat in the center of the room. There were towels and soaps set at its side, and Jessimyn had never seen anything that looked more inviting. Jenya shooed the servant out of the room. "I have one of my old dresses for you to wear, while your own things are being cleaned. I hope you don't mind." She smiled. "I would have offered you one of my _new _dresses, but I'm afraid I've grown too fat for any of my things to fit you."

"No, that's... fine," Jessimyn said cautiously.

Jenya nodded. "I'll leave you to your bath, then." She ducked back out the door.

Jessimyn stared after her for just a moment before giving her head a little shake and turning her attention to the tub. No use worrying over what Jenya was going to spring on her when a perfectly good bath was waiting to be had. She peeled off her armor, followed by her leggings and undertunic, and lowered herself into the steamy water. A contented sigh escaped her lips, and Jenya was forgotten for the moment. Once she had washed her hair twice and scrubbed her skin until it was pink, she finally dragged herself out, dried herself off, then reached for the dress Jenya had left her. She couldn't really remember the last time she had been in a dress, but she hadn't missed them. The dress was still a little too big, especially in the bust, she noticed with an amused sigh, but it would do at least until she had clean things of her own to wear.

Jessimyn combed out her hair and pulled it back into a loose braid before opening the door to go back into the sitting room. Jenya was seated near a window, and she looked up expectantly when Jessimyn entered. She gestured to a seat near her, which Jessimyn took. However, Jenya suddenly seemed at a loss for words, and her mouth worked silently as she seemed to search for what she wanted to say. "I was awful to you in Highever," she finally said. "I was... angry and hurt, and as you were the closest thing I would get to Fergus, I took it out on you. I apologize for that. I've actually been spending a lot of time in the Chantry lately, speaking with the Revered Mother, and she has helped me deal with my grief."

_And I wonder how much _that _cost you, _Jessimyn wanted to say... but didn't. She'd never been too terribly fond of the Chantry, had never put much faith in their teachings. But if Jenya was able to find some amount of peace, perhaps it was worth at least something. "Deal with it how?" She asked.

Jenya sighed. "It hasn't been easy. She helped me see that my anger has only kept me from healing, especially the anger I had for you." Jenya had the decency to look abashed by that. "She told me that there is only one person who would be deserving of my anger, and he's gone, so it doesn't matter to him whether I'm angry or not. She told me that I need to focus on my children now, on my family. Which... you're a part of."

"I... want to be," Jessimyn said, her mind reeling. She had been prepared for screaming and yelling, or crying, or even physical violence, but not this. "I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say. I wasn't sure you would even want to _see _me."

Jenya nodded slowly. "And I wasn't sure I wanted to, at first. But the Revered Mother helped me to see that I was only mad at you because I needed someone to be mad at, when really my anger should have been focused on the person who ruined my life."

Jessimyn frowned. She wondered if that was what the Revered Mother had actually said, or if it was just Jenya's interpretation. It seemed strange to her, no matter what she might think of the Chantry, that a priest would council someone to be angry at someone, no matter the reason. "She told you that?" She asked.

With a shrug Jenya said, "Well, not in those exact words. But if I was to be angry over losing my husband and home, then that anger would be better focused on Fergus rather than anyone else, don't you think?"

Her words made Jessimyn think about something she'd been wondering. "Highever..." she said. "What... what has become of it."

"Nothing," said Jenya.

"What do you mean?" Jessimyn asked, brows wrinkled.

"Well, it is in the possession of the crown, as you know, but the king has done nothing with it." Jenya brushed a stray hair from her face. "I had thought he might gift the estate and the teyrnir to a high-ranking, deserving noble, but he hasn't. As far as I know, Castle Cousland sits empty."

"That doesn't make any sense," Jessimyn complained. "Why take it only to do nothing with it? Why not just let you keep it, in that case?"

Jenya let out a long sigh. "I have wondered the same thing myself. But that is a conversation for another time. I'm sure you are hungry and tired." She smiled. "Some host I am, not even allowing you time to rest after your journey. Go. We will talk more tomorrow."

Jessimyn left Jenya's room, head spinning. Not that she was complaining, of course. Jenya's friendliness would certainly make their time in West Hill more pleasant. It was better than she had expected it to be... so why did she feel a sense of foreboding?

Over the next couple days, Jessimyn spent nearly all her time with her niece and nephew. It was amazing to her how much they had grown in the past year. It also amazed her how good Bryce's memory was, for he remembered Berton and asked after him. When Berton heard about that, he went to visit the children and thereafter always seemed to be around whenever she was visiting with them.

They were sitting outside one evening, watching the children play, when she remarked to Jenya, "Bryce looks so much like Fergus. I hadn't really noticed before."

"Yes," said Jenya, her voice soft. "It's almost difficult to look at, sometimes. As long as he doesn't grow up to _be _like his father..."

"Fergus had good qualities," Jessimyn began.

"How can you say that?" Jenya demanded. "How can you love him, how can you defend him after what he did?"

Jessimyn nodded a little. This was the Jenya she had been expecting upon their arrival in West Hill. "You think I don't hate what he did? You think I don't hate _him_ a little? You say Fergus ruined your life... well, what do you think he did to me? I spent most of my life wanting to grow up to be him, and now I can't see our life as anything but a lie. You think I'm not angry at him? I am. He killed... no, he _murdered _people. Not for justice or even vengeance, but to further his own selfish ambition. He took something from me that I can never get back."

"Some_thing _or some_one_?" Jenya asked, and Jessimyn didn't respond. "So what of the king, then? Not that I'm saying I condone your illicit relationship, because I don't, but you seem plenty angry at him, but not so much at Fergus. Or is that because Fergus isn't around to be angry at, while Alistair is? Much like what I was doing, with my anger at you."

When Jessimyn didn't respond, the two women sat in silence, turning their attention to the children... and Berton. Unwilling to think about Alistair and her anger at him just then, she turned her attention to the man in front of her. Jessimyn wasn't sure if he spent so much time with Bryce and Lyla, allowing them to hang all over him, because he actually enjoyed it or just because he was trying to get in her favor.

Jenya stood up. "All right, babies," she said affectionately. "It's time to get ready for dinner. Come along."

"Aw, Mama," Lyla said with a pout, but the two children followed her back inside.

Jessimyn watched them go, then turned to see Berton sitting at her side. With a start she realized it was the first time they'd really been alone together since that day in the library at Redcliffe. She made as if to get up and go inside as well, but Berton reached for her hand, pulling her back down onto the bench. "You don't have to run away," he said. "You know I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do."

"That's not it," she said, not meeting his eyes.

The laughter in his voice was clear as he said, "Oh? Then you're afraid I'm going to do something you _do _want me to do?" She glanced up at him but kept her head tilted away, and Berton frowned. "I've asked you not to do that," he said softly, cupping her chin in his hands, moving her face so that she was looking at him straight on. "That's better," he said with a smile as he ran his fingers over the scar on her cheek.

The sensation of his touch, his fingers on the tissue over nerves that were still a little raw, was too much and Jessimyn closed her eyes for just a moment. Her eyes flew open at the feeling of his lips on her cheek, his hot breath on her sensitive scar tissue. She jerked her head back. "What are you doing?"

His hand had fallen from her face to her shoulder when she moved away from him. He moved it so that it was on the back of her neck. "Why won't you let me kiss you?"

"Maybe I don't want you to," she said.

"But maybe you do," he said with a small smile. "_Do_ you want me to kiss you, kitten?"

"I don't want you to assume that, any time there are no other people around, that that's what I want," she said.

Berton grinned at her. "You're right, just because no one else is here now, it doesn't mean they won't walk in, as happened to us in Redcliffe. Perhaps a more private setting would be better. Perhaps you would like to join me in my room later? You know... if you're simply worried that I'm a selfish lover, I assure you I'm not. I promise you, you will enjoy it."

"Berton," Jessimyn said, shaking her head, and he laughed, pulling his hand away from her.

"Well, it was worth a try," he said as she stood up. "You didn't answer my question, though," he added, still smiling. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

"I'm going inside now," she said and turned on her heel.

As she went through the door, she heard him call from behind her, "That wasn't a _no_."

Jessimyn went back to avoiding any situations that would put her alone with him. Instead of this discouraging him, though, Berton seemed pleased, as if he thought she was saying that she couldn't _trust_ herself to be alone with him.

The days passed by slowly, and it was nearly three weeks after they arrived before they finally got word that a group of soldiers was seen nearing the city. Jessimyn and the others stood at the front gates of the estate to welcome the Orlesian Wardens. Her eyes passed over each man as they arrived until she caught sight of... him. She staggered back, and she would have tripped over her own feet had Berton not been right behind her, and he kept her from falling, grabbing her around the waist.

"What is it?" He asked, a worried look on his face. "You've gone white as a sheet."

"I can't..." she said. "I can't..." She pulled away from him, ducking into the building before any of the Orlesians saw her. She hurried into an empty receiving room and leaned heavily against the wall, her hands pressed to her stomach.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Jessimyn looked up to see Zevran and Kyran standing before her. "You saw all of them?"

"Yes," Kyran said, frowning at her.

"The mage that's with them. Short, light skin, dark hair? You saw him?" The men nodded at her. "That's..." She turned her attention to Zevran. "That's Elgen." He just shook his head at her, no sign of recognition at the name. "The mage from Weisshaupt that I told you about. One of the ones who participated in my... testing. He was the one who..."

"...was often _happy to see you_?" Zevran finished for her, and she nodded.

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "It's fine. He probably doesn't even remember me. Maker, I just never expected to see him, or any of them, ever again." She noticed Kyran's confused look and shook her head. "Zevran, you can tell Kyran what we're talking about... but later." She took a few more deep breaths. "Come on, let's go greet them."

The three of them walked back outside, where the Orlesians were talking softly with her group of Wardens. Ethan and Thom were more animated than the others, as they knew some of them, but it was Elgen Jessimyn's eyes sought, and when he caught sight of her, his own eyes widened, a faint blush staining his cheeks. So much for him not remembering. Berton seemed to catch the exchange and moved to her side. "What's going on?" He asked. "Do you know him?"

"No," she said. "Well... not well." _Just another man to add to the list of people in our group who have seen me naked,_ she thought with a frown.


	80. Zevran Chapter 80

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know why, but this chapter seemed extra difficult to write, which is why it has taken me so long to update. Also, I decided that I should actually give a name to Jenya's father, so I looked it up, to see if the name of the Arl of West Hill was given. It was. Apparently Wulff is actually supposed to be from West Hill and not from South Reach, as I had thought when I made him _Lyrina's _father. So... I hope you all will forgive the discrepancy. :-)_

_~***~_

Zevran stood on the balcony overlooking the Waking Sea. The days were getting cooler but the breeze coming off the water was still refreshing. The sun had only just set, and the pinks and oranges in the sky were slowly darkening into blues and purples. However, he hadn't gone outside to enjoy the breeze or the sunset. He'd gone out to the balcony to escape the incredibly boring after-dinner gathering that was going on just on the other side of the door at his back.

Jenya's father, Arl Sedric, along with his daughter and eldest son, Wilbin, had apparently been planning a large dinner on the night when both sets of Grey Wardens were finally present. The food was decent enough, but it was more fitting for a gathering of nobles, which the Wardens definitely were not. It had been almost amusing to see the pained looks on Sedric's face as the soldiers discussed... well... soldiering, sometimes in more gruesome detail than was polite at table. After the meal was over, the group retired to another room for drinks, where the soldier talk continued. While it seemed no one was quite ready for the official meeting, in which members from both groups of Wardens would get together to discuss what had been happening, they all seemed happy enough to discuss the various types of darkspawn they had all killed.

It was all very dull, really, especially since Zevran wasn't a Grey Warden. He'd been quick to point that out to the Orlesians, and they had left him alone, more or less, since then, although some eyed him with curiosity, likely wondering what he was doing with such a group. Sometimes he wondered that same thing, knowing that he could just as easily be living a nice, comfortable life back in Antiva. There were two reasons he still remained in Ferelden, though, and when he heard the door behind him opening, Zevran turned to see one of those reasons joining him on the balcony.

"Had all you could take, have you?" He asked with a grin.

Jessimyn just gave him a grunt and moved to stand at his side. He noticed her hesitation, though, as she first moved to stand at his right but changed her mind, instead standing at his left. That put the scarred side of her face furthest from him, he noticed with a frown. Zevran had been doing his best to act as if there was nothing different about her, but it didn't seem to matter. She often stood so that she was facing away from him just a little, and she often had her hand up at her face, as if to cover up the imperfection.

"Why is it," she asked. "That when men get together, they seem to have this strange need to show each other up? I'm tired of hearing them all brag about all the things they've killed."

Zevran grinned. "All you have to do is claim the Archdemon, and you'll win every time."

With a chuckle Jessimyn said, "But I don't want to win. I don't even want to play."

"You would rather they all talked about the latest fashions, then? About who is screwing whom at court?"

Jessimyn smirked. "Maybe I would."

"So did you come out here to escape the dreadful conversation, or was it because you couldn't stand to be away from me any longer?" He asked, putting an arm loosely around her waist. "I'm sure we could find a place to sneak off to, if that's what you had in mind."

"Somehow I think someone might notice," she said.

"Someone like Berton, perhaps?" Zevran asked. And as if naming him drew his attention, Zevran caught sight of Berton through the door, coming their way from the far side of the room. Zevran pulled Jessimyn closer to him. "If we hurry, we can be back before anyone even notices we're gone," he said, leaning in. He tilted his head just so, so that to anyone standing at the door, it would appear that they were kissing. Jessimyn laughed and touched him lightly on his arm, which only added to the illusion. When Zevran stepped back, he made eye contact with Berton, who was standing just on the other side of the door, a frown on his face. Zevran gave him a smile.

It was childish, he knew, but he couldn't help it. The man irritated him to no end. It could almost make Zevran appreciate why Alistair had never really grown to like him. Almost. After all, Zevran certainly wouldn't compare himself to Berton. "Speaking of Berton," he began, but the man simply turned around and walked back into the center of the room. Zevran changed what he was going to say. "Did you tell him anything about Weisshaupt, about the mage?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, and I don't plan to. The fewer people who know about the most humiliating experience of my life, the better."

"Yet you wanted me to share the details with Kyran," Zevran said.

Jessimyn gave him a look. "Well, he already knew some of it. Besides, would you really have kept it from him, had he asked for details?"

Zevran frowned, knowing there was more to that question than what it seemed, so he decided to evade it. "How many people know?"

"Just the two of you and Alistair," she replied. "Fergus knew some, though I kept the worst of the details from him. It doesn't seem like Elgen has told anyone anything either, so I suppose I can be thankful for that." She sighed. "But people have noticed _something_. If only I'd known he would be in the group of Wardens from Orlesians, I could have schooled my reaction to him better. At least he hasn't tried to approach me."

Zevran grinned. "You don't wish to get reacquainted?"

Jessimyn scoffed at him. "Strangely enough, no."

"Well, hopefully this meeting will go smoothly, then the Orlesians will return to their homes, and you can go back to pretending it never happened, yes?"

With a sigh, Jessimyn looked away. "Is it weak of me to admit that's what I want?"

"No," said Zevran in a serious voice. "I remember how haunted you looked when you first got to Antiva."

She nodded. "I think I'd rather take ten more of these," she said, tapping a finger on the scar on her chin. "Than face another day like the ones I spent in Weisshaupt." She chuckled and shook her head. "Well... maybe not."

Zevran was about to respond when the door to the balcony opened, and Kyran stepped outside. Zevran saw the mage's eyes flicker to the hand on Jessimyn's waist, but if Zevran wouldn't have dropped it for Berton, he wasn't going to for Kyran, either. The smile he gave the mage was much friendlier than the one he'd given Berton, however.

"Jessimyn," Kyran said. "You might want to come back inside. Things are getting a little... heated, and I think it's starting to frighten your sister and her family."

Jessimyn groaned and went through the door. Kyran gave Zevran a quick look, but then he followed her back inside. Well, if there was going to be excitement, he wasn't going to miss it. When he stepped back inside the room, Berton and Jandin were the center of attention, having what looked like a rather lively conversation with two of the Orlesians. Jessimyn and Kyran walked over to them, but Zevran hung back, looking around at the others. Most were watching the four men with interest, but he noticed Elgen's attention drawn to Jessimyn as she entered. The man seemed flustered and actually turned so that his back was to her. It didn't seem like he wanted to be reminded of that time in Weisshaupt any more than she did.

When Zevran finally focused his attention on the argument, it was over. Jessimyn was smiling, and the four men looked a little sullen but otherwise mollified. She walked over to Zevran, Kyran at her side. "What was that all about?" Zevran asked.

"The meeting tomorrow," Kyran answered. "They were fighting over who would be presiding, as if that's the most important thing here."

"Oh, but it is," Jessimyn said, still grinning. "But it's all settled now."

"And how did you smooth things over so quickly?" Zevran asked.

"I told them the person who had killed the most impressive creature got to preside, and... ooh, Archdemon. I win." Zevran chuckled at her, and she continued. "Well... and it's my country, and my sister-in-law's home, and it was my summons that brought them all here in the first place, so I'm in charge."

"As well you should be," Zevran agreed.

The meeting the next morning did not include everyone. Jessimyn brought along Kyran, Berton, and Jandin with her, and they met with four of the Orlesians, none of whom were Elgen. It was well past midday when they finally adjourned, and Kyran found Zevran in his room. "So, have you solved all of Thedas' problems?" He asked.

Kyran let out a dramatic sigh and sat down next to him. "We're all supposed to have the same goal here, right? I can't believe people can argue about such petty things." He shook his head. "Seems the Orlesians have been noticing attacks recently that were similar to those we saw around here a few years ago. From what we can all tell, they seem to match the timeline we've figured out. Meaning that when the attacks stopped here, they started there. I guess a group of Wardens from Orlais went to find out what was going on, much like our smaller group did before, and they must have followed them through the Dales and over the Frostback Mountains into Ferelden. They sent messages back to Val Royeaux whenever they made it into a town that had birds to use. The last message they sent was not that long ago, probably only a month or two before we found... them. It. That place."

Kyran shuddered a little before continuing. "Anyway, the message said that they had found a lot of tracks leading into and out of a particular region, near a large lake at the base of the mountains, and they were going to investigate it."

"So let me guess," Zevran said. "We're going to go to this region ourselves, see if we can find what they were looking at without managing to get ourselves killed." Kyran gave him an exasperated look, and Zevran grinned. "After all, I have such a pretty head. I would hate to lose it."

Kyran seemed shocked by the statement, but only for a moment, and then he laughed. "Yes, well... three of the Orlesians are coming with us, but the others are returning home when we leave here, which will be in a few days, it sounds. And before you ask, no, Elgen is not one of the ones coming with us. They figured one mage in our group is enough."

"One mage is certainly enough for me," Zevran said with a smile, and he was rewarded with the blush he'd been hoping for.

The next few days seemed to drag by. Jessimyn told him that they were staying the extra days so that everyone would have time to rest, so that the Orlesians wouldn't feel like they were being rushed off, so that their hosts wouldn't feel like their hospitality had been abused, but Zevran guessed that it was really because she wanted to spend extra time with Jenya and her niece and nephew. When the day finally came for them to leave, Zevran was more than ready to go.

There was little in the way of goodbyes between the Orlesians as they parted ways, most going back to the docks while three, named Reyin, Luc, and Eric, joined their already large group heading south. Zevran had already thought there were too many people traveling with them, but the extra three seemed to make it even worse, and it took them much longer to get to the docks near the Circle Tower than it had to go from the docks to West Hill. Luckily Jessimyn told them they were not going to stay in Redcliffe, and instead they took a ship across Lake Calenhad to a river on its west bank which lead to a lake at the foot of the Frostback Mountains, the one that matched all the descriptions the Orlesians had given.

There had been some arguments about that. Some had wanted to go back to the site where they had found the dead Orlesian Wardens and try to track backwards from there. Zevran had argued against it, as had Jessimyn, both of them stating that any trails from there would be gone by now.

"We're going to take the information they had and use it to find what they were looking for," Jessimyn told them all. "They mentioned this area for a reason, and we're going to start our search there. Besides, it's only getting colder every day. We don't need to waste time trying to backtrack when we don't have to." Of course, Jessimyn had the final say, so she didn't really have to justify her decision, but she had always been persuasive, and soon everyone was agreeing with her logic.

At least most of the traveling could be done by boat. Zevran could certainly appreciate the chance to kick back and put his feet up, and it amused him to no end to watch the others pace back and forth on deck, complaining about how long it was taking. He offered to a few people that he could throw them overboard, where they could then swim to shore and walk from there, but no one seemed interested in taking him up on his offer.

They saw their first flakes of snow the day they arrived at the lake by the mountains. Everyone else was scurrying to gather their things and exit the ship, but Zevran took the time to admire the view. Mist rose from the lake, whose surface was as smooth as glass, reflecting the mountains behind them perfectly. The snow that was gently falling only added to the beauty of the setting. It was almost a shame, Zevran thought, that they would likely all die in such a lovely place.


	81. Berton Chapter 81

Berton sat near the fire, his cloak pulled tightly around himself. No matter how long he spent in Ferelden, he would never get used to the winters, and this one seemed particularly fierce. A few of the men huddled together playing cards, but most retired to their tents as soon as they made camp, only going out when absolutely necessary. Berton didn't like it, as it didn't really allow much for conversation, and without that camaraderie, tensions from their drawn-out search remained high.

They had been traveling along the base of the Frostback Mountains for over a month, probably getting closer to two months. They had run into small bands of darkspawn, which seemed to indicate that there was something going on in the area, but it was never more than a few at a time, which were easily taken care of. No one had been seriously hurt, and most of the time they took no wounds at all. Not that Berton wished for anyone to be hurt, of course, but he could hope for a _little _more excitement. It didn't help that most days they spent following tracks that lead nowhere, through slushy snow that seemed to soak through whatever they were wearing. They had to stop often to let people change socks and stamp the life back into their feet. With fifteen people in their party, that meant a lot of stopping.

Another problem posed by such a large group was the camping situation. That many tents circled around a fire meant that no one was close enough to benefit from the heat. Some of the men had taken to doubling up in the tents, not only to bring the circle in closer but also for the shared body heat inside. Berton wouldn't have minded sharing his tent, but the person he would have been willing to share it with seemed content to sleep alone. But he supposed that was better than her sharing her tent with someone else... like Zevran.

Berton found himself thinking much more than he should have about just what was going on between the two of them. He knew that Jessimyn and Zevran had been lovers in the past, as he had seen Zevran leaving Jessimyn's room one morning when they had stopped in Lothering, years back. They didn't behave like lovers, though. She didn't seem to spend any more time with him than with any of the other men, and he was fairly certain they never shared a tent while traveling. But then he had seen them on the balcony together in West Hill, and it made him wonder if perhaps they were just better at hiding things. However, he was also pretty sure that Zevran and Kyran were currently sharing a tent... for warmth, so it seemed, though Berton wondered if there was more there as well. Not that he thought about it for long, though, as the idea of the two of them... well, it just made him a little uncomfortable.

Berton glanced over at Jessimyn's tent. He knew she was inside, but he also knew that she allowed others to go into her tent if they needed to speak with her. There was something Berton needed to talk to her about, but he wasn't sure he was quite ready. Well, that wasn't exactly the case. He was ready to tell her, but he wasn't sure she would be ready to hear it, and he had no idea how she would react. So instead of speaking with her, he spent most of his time just thinking about her.

The image of Jessimyn in her tent, her naked and spread before him, was one burned into his brain. It was a lovely visual, but Berton hated that he didn't have the memories of his other senses to go along with it. Besides remembering what she looked like, he also wanted to remember the feel of her skin under his hands, the taste and smell of her, the sound of her voice as she cried out his name. But he didn't have those things because he had rejected her offer, no matter how much he had wanted to accept it. Berton often wondered what would have happened afterward, had they slept together that night. Would she really have hated him for it, or would he have been the one holding her out on the balcony in West Hill? But it was a useless thing to wonder over. The decision was already made, and he couldn't change it.

Berton stood and ducked into his own tent, retrieving his things for tea. He went back out to the fire to begin the water boiling. At that point, there were only three others still outside, and one of them was Jax, who was on first watch for the evening. That was probably the one _good _thing about such a large group; each person only had to take watch twice a week instead of every night. Once the water was warm, he added the leaves, then poured the hot liquid into two cups and approached Jessimyn's tent. "Jessimyn," he called out before entering.

Jessimyn was sitting on her bedroll, a lantern at her side, a cloak around her shoulders, and her blankets piled up on her lap. She had her large map spread out in front of her. Once he entered she stood up and went over to him, taking the cups from his hands to allow him to remove his boots. Then Berton sat down across from her, the map between then, and she handed him one of the cups.

Holding the cup up underneath her nose, Jessimyn sighed softly. "Ah, lovely warmth." She took a sip, then looked at him. "Thank you."

Berton gave her a smile, then gestured to the map. "What are all the new markings?"

"I've been trying to keep track of the places we've been. Unfortunately this area isn't well populated, so there's not a whole lot of detail to the maps I have, but I think I've kept track as best I can." Jessimyn shook her head. "I just wish I had a better idea of what we're walking into."

Berton nodded. "There's definitely something nearby. I keep getting twinges, like there are darkspawn around, but not close enough to know for sure where they are. They have to feel us, though. A group of Grey Wardens this large can't escape notice for long."

Jessimyn looked pensive. "I've only really felt them right before an attack, but the fact that there have been so many, no matter how small, means there are more darkspawn in this area than anywhere else we've been."

"So where are we heading tomorrow?" Berton asked, mostly just groping for a reason to allow him to stay in her tent a little while longer.

Leaning forward, Jessimyn tapped a spot just south of the lake. "I think we should start moving this way. There have been more darkspawn south of the lake than there were north of it." She gulped down the rest of her tea. "Did you have some thoughts on the matter?"

Berton shook his head. "No, your reasoning is sound."

Jessimyn gave him a small smile. "Was there something else you needed?"

"Something else I _wanted_, yes," he replied. At her raised eyebrows, Berton gave his head a little shake. "You know, most of the other men are sharing tents, to help stay warm. I would be more than willing to let you share mine. Or I could sleep here, if you wished."

Jessimyn chuckled softly. "I'm not sure that would really be appropriate. But... thank you for the offer. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to try and get some sleep." She held out her empty cup to him.

Berton took it from her, his fingers sliding over hers. "So cold," he murmured as he held her fingers in his right hand while the left hand set the cup aside. He rubbed her cold hand between his, then brought her fingers to his lips. Jessimyn gave him an odd look but didn't pull away. "Goodnight, then," he said. "And if you change your mind, well... you know where to find me." She made no reply as he pulled his boots back on, nor when he collected the cups and exited her tent.

The next morning they set off to the south, and they slowly covered the area south of the lake over the next few weeks. One day, shortly after they had broken camp and were traveling, Berton felt that familiar prickling of his skin, and it seemed to grow a little every hour. No one else noticed it at first, which worried him a bit, but eventually they all started to feel it as well. A few hours before sunset, they found the source. They had found numerous tracks a few hours before and had been following them, and they led to the opening of a large cave. From the way the light fell, they could only see a little ways into it, but it looked like a large tunnel led down and to the west, towards the mountains.

"I'm going in to check it out," Jessimyn said. "Jandin, Luc, Kyran, you're coming with me. The rest of you wait out here." Everyone began to protest at being left behind, and she held up her hands to silence them. "We're only going in a little ways, to see if there's anything to this cave at all. We'll be back soon."

At that, the four of them disappeared inside, leaving the rest of them to pace and worry. Berton was almost happy to see that Zevran looked as agitated as he was, and the hour that Jessimyn was gone seemed to take days. When they finally climbed back out of the cave, their faces all looked a little pale, a little worried, and Jessimyn ordered them all to march quickly to the east, away from the cave. "We're going to get away from here as quickly as we can," she stated when everyone bombarded her with questions. "We need to make camp soon, and I don't want to be right on top of... that when we do. Come on."

"But what is it?" Ethan asked. "What's down there."

"An entrance to the Deep Roads," Jessimyn said, her voice serious. "A big one. And it looks like it's seen a lot of traffic lately."

As they moved, Jessimyn told everyone what they had seen. The cave had gone down a ways, then it just opened into a huge room, with wide hallways leading off in all directions. There were torches along the walls, and she said that some of them were even still lit, meaning someone, or something, had been by there recently. They all talked about how they could feel the increasing sense of the taint the further they went. It made sense, though, as to why Berton had been feeling the darkspawn all along. If they were underground, they could have been traveling along beneath them all this time, and they didn't even know it.

Once they made camp, Jessimyn told everyone to be ready to move at first light. They would be going back to the cave in the morning, to see how extensively the roads ran. "Why didn't we just stay there, camp inside the cave?" Eric asked. "It would have been much warmer, yes?"

"Have you ever been in the Deep Roads?" She asked, and Eric shook his head. Jessimyn gave him a cold smile. "It is not the sort of place you just want to run into, with no idea of what you're doing. I want some time to plan, before we go barging in."

With that, she went to her tent. Many of the others stayed out, discussing what they would see the next day. Some of the younger ones almost sounded excited, Berton noticed with disgust. He went into his own tent, thinking not about darkspawn but about the relief he had felt when he saw Jessimyn emerge from the cave. It confirmed something he had realized that day when she had gotten hurt, when he found her trapped beneath the hurlock, when he thought for a moment that she was dead. Berton could no longer deny it to himself, though he wasn't sure he really wanted to. He loved her. The idea was not quite so distressing as he thought it might have been. No, what distressed Berton was trying to figure out how he was going to tell her.


	82. Zevran Chapter 82

The Deep Roads were as charming as Zevran remembered them. Everyone remained tense as they traveled through them, and he found yet another reason to be glad he'd never tried to become a Grey Warden himself. They all seemed to be able to feel the darkspawn at almost all times, even though they saw very few of them. The bands they did happen upon were like the ones they had run into above ground, small and easily dealt with, but they were enough to keep everyone on edge. At least it was warmer underground.

Once they had gotten into the cave and made it to the large room with tunnels leading in all directions, they had headed south first. They had traveled that way for over a week before the path just stopped at a cave-in, and they'd had to turn around. The group had encountered their first darkspawn on the way back from there, as it seemed they had been noticed and followed. They headed west from the large room once they made it back to it, and it took over two weeks to explore everything in that area. However, when they found nothing of interest there and started heading back, some began to wonder if this place was in fact what the Orlesian Wardens had been talking about, or if they were just wasting time. That question was answered once they headed north.

The further they headed up the corridor to the north, the more the Wardens seemed to be able to sense the darkspawn. Finally, after a few days, the hallway seemed to end in a large room, even larger than the one near the cave entrance. The wall at the far end looked strange, however, and as they got closer, they realized why. There was a ledge running the length of the room, on the other side of which was a large drop off. It reminded Zevran of the Deep Roads in Orzammar, when they'd come upon a similar room, and they had looked down to see an entire army of darkspawn. At least there was not an army below them this time, but there were definitely little lights moving around down there, and all of the Wardens seemed ill at ease. Zevran felt a hand brush against him, and he turned to see Kyran moving up beside him to peer down into the depths.

"Maker," Kyran muttered and took a step back.

"The height make you nervous?" Zevran asked with a grin as he leaned himself further over the edge. He felt Kyran's hand on his arm as the man pulled him back from the ledge, then watched as Kyran glanced furtively around them to see if anyone was paying attention before pulling him around the corner of a pillar that blocked them from everyone else's view.

Zevran was about to make a joke, but he couldn't get the words out because Kyran's mouth was suddenly covering his own. When he finally pulled away from the kiss, he chuckled. "So bold you are, my little mage."

Kyran gave him a look, though he couldn't quite hide his smile. "Why do you call me little? I'm taller than you are. I hope you're not referring to something else..." Zevran laughed, making Kyran smile more. "How would like me to refer to you as my little elf?"

"Oh no," Zevran said in mock seriousness. "Now _that _would be offensive." He watched as Kyran's eyes focused on something behind him, and the mage's face paled a little. Zevran glanced over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Nothing, it..." Kyran shook his head. "Berton just walked over here, saw us, and turned around and walked away."

Zevran noticed Kyran trembling a little, and he rubbed his hands up the mage's arms. "No need to be frightened," he said soothingly. "You're not at the Circle anymore. No one here is going to do anything to you like what they did there." Kyran had not told him everything that happened to him while he was still an Apprentice, but the few stories he'd heard were enough to chill his blood. It was no wonder Kyran had wanted to leave. However, when he didn't look convinced by Zevran's words, he frowned at him. "Do you really think I'd let anyone do anything to you? Do you think Jess would let anyone hurt you?"

Kyran looked away. "I... don't know. Won't she be... upset, when she finds out about us?"

Zevran took a small step back. "What do you mean? I think she has a pretty good idea of what's going on."

Still not making eye contact, Kyran said, "But you haven't _told _her, have you? I mean... I guess I'm wondering... are you and she still..." He stammered and eventually trailed off.

"Are we still what? Friends?"

Kyran shook his head. "You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," Zevran said in an amused voice. "Jess and I are friends, as we have always been. Nothing has changed there, just because you managed to lure me into your bed."

Kyran gave him an embarrassed look. "I didn't..." He frowned. "But if she were to invite you to _her _bed... would you still go?"

Zevran frowned as well. "Are you saying it would bother you if I did?"

Kyran looked away. "I... don't know. I mean, I know I wouldn't like it if you were with another _man_. But Jessimyn..."

Zevran chuckled. "If you didn't have such an aversion to women, and if you didn't look upon her as a savior and older sister all wrapped into one, I'd suggest having you both in my bed together." Kyran's face turned a bright red, causing Zevran to laugh even more. "Oh, I tease, but only because you blush so prettily. Come on, let's go see what everyone else is doing," he said and walked back out into view of the others, if only just to avoid having to answer Kyran's question. Problem was he didn't know how he would answer it. It seemed like a bit of a moot point, though.

After all, he and Jessimyn hadn't been together in a long time. He had gone to her room before they set out on this trip, and while he'd been there for hours, they hadn't actually slept together. But if she came to him, would he turn her down? Zevran didn't think he would. It _was _too bad that he'd never be able to talk all three of them into bed together, though, he thought with a smile. Well, he would enjoy it, anyway, though he wasn't sure what Jessimyn and Kyran would think of such an arrangement. With a shake of his head, he turned his attention to the matters at hand, and he walked over to Jessimyn, who was talking quietly with Berton, Jandin, and Luc. Berton gave him a little nod, and Zevran almost laughed. So the man was going to be _nicer _to him, now that he knew he was involved with someone else?

"So are we going down there?" He asked.

Jessimyn turned her attention to him. "No, I... don't think so. We have no way of telling how far down that goes, how many paths branch off of it, but we can all feel that there are a _lot _of darkspawn down there." She shook her head. "We would need an entire army, and even then it would probably be too dangerous."

"So what are we going to do, then?" He asked.

Jessimyn gave him a cold smile. "We're going to cave it in," she said. "Not in here, of course. I doubt there's enough ground above us to fill this in, but back at the large room near the entrance to the cave. We didn't find any other ways out, so that has to be the main passage they're using to get from the Deep Roads to the surface. If we can seal that off..."

"And how are we going to do that?" Kyran asked from Zevran's side.

"Well," said Jessimyn. "I'm hoping that you will be able to help with it. But also, Luc here is a bit of an expert with explosives. With his skill in that, and your magic, we should be able to manage."

"You brought your explosives' supplies all the way from Orlais?" Zevran asked with a smile.

"Don't be ridiculous," Luc responded in his snooty Orlesian accent. "We will have to find a town where I can get what I need, and then we will come back."

"Redcliffe?" Zevran asked, and Jessimyn nodded.

"It will take more time than I would like to get there, but we will be able to take a ship back from there to the lake that's just north of here, so the return trip won't be too bad," she said.

"Especially with all the supplies we will be bringing back with us, yes?" Luc added.

With that decided, they headed back towards the surface. Since they were underground, when they set up camp most of the men just arranged their bedrolls in a circle to sleep. Jessimyn was the only person who would actually put up her tent, which Zevran assumed was more for privacy than anything else. One night, when they were nearly back to the entrance of the cave, Zevran was startled awake by a noise. When he realized someone had yelled, he sat up quickly, as did the others around him. Daniel, who had been on duty, was looking at Berton, who was sitting up in his bedroll.

"What is it?" Daniel asked him.

Berton forced a laugh. "Nothing, it was nothing. Something in my bedroll bit me."

Everyone else laughed as well, but Zevran couldn't help but notice that Berton looked almost frightened. Jessimyn poked her head out of her tent. "What's going on?" She asked.

The others seemed to talk over each other to poke fun at Berton when everyone suddenly stopped and looked to the north. That was never a good sign in a group of Grey Wardens, and when Zevran reached for his weapons, everyone else was doing the same. The darkspawn were upon them when they'd had no chance to do anything more than stand up. The genlocks in the front of the group burst into flames, their screams echoing in the corridor as the hurlocks and genlocks behind them pushed past. Kyran fell back to stand behind the others, still throwing spells out as long as he could.

Zevran surged forward, jabbing at the genlock in front of him with his left hand as he swung the sword in his right in a backhanded arc to slice across the beast's neck. As the creature fell to the ground, he felt a sword graze his left arm, slicing easily through his shirt. He turned in that direction and just barely ducked in time to keep his head attached to his body. Striking out with his foot, he swept it underneath the hurlock that had swung at him, knocking it to the ground. He stabbed the darkspawn with both weapons, then looked up, taking a second to assess the situation.

A scream sounded from next to him, coming from a very human mouth, and Zevran watched Colm convulse as lightning shot through him. Zevran jerked his attention to the back of the darkspawn group and saw the emissary. He rolled and ducked around the other Grey Wardens, knowing that if he didn't take out the darkspawn mage, there would be many more of them to fall. He was almost to the creature when another genlock jumped in front of him, swinging wildly at his chest. Zevran danced backwards, the axe coming so close to him that the tip caught on his shirt, but he stabbed with his left, then his right, then his left again, making some nice, neat holes in the genlock's neck. When it fell to the ground, Zevran found himself face to face with the emissary.

The darkspawn mage lifted his hands into the air, beginning a spell, but Zevran drew his right hand back, then swung the pommel of his sword at the side of the emissary's head. It didn't fall, but it stumbled, its hands falling to its side. Zevran swung with his dagger, but the creature stuck out his hand, and Zevran felt a blast of energy rock him backwards, temporarily stunning him. The slice of a blade across his leg seemed to clear his head, and Zevran turned to engage the genlock standing before him. Bringing both hands up over his left shoulder, he brought both weapons down in an arc, hacking across the creature's chest. He then brought his left hand across, slicing across the genlock's body again as he stabbed it in the chest with his right. Zevran then turned his attention back to the emissary just in time to see a sword protrude through its chest from behind. It made a gurgling sound and fell to the ground, revealing Jessimyn standing behind it.

Her hair was a little wild, and there was a gash across her stomach, though it wasn't bleeding heavily. She was dressed only in a tunic which came down just past her knees, and Zevran had to smile. "Nice socks," he said, gesturing to the red and blue striped socks she had on that came up over her knees, disappearing under her tunic. She grinned at him, and as one they turned to face the rest of the group.

But there was no more fighting to be done, as all of the darkspawn were down. Unfortunately, so were some of the Wardens, and they rushed over to see how they could help. Kyran was already healing those who needed it most, but Colm was not the only one who was beyond healing. Reyin and Badek were also lying on the ground, their lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling above them. Zevran went to Kyran's side as he leaned over Gyll, healing a cut to his head.

"I'm fine," Zevran said before Kyran could even ask.

"Kyran," Jessimyn called out, and they both turned to see her leaning over Berton, putting pressure on a wound in his side.

"Move your hands, Jessimyn," Kyran said as he made it over to them.

Zevran watched her move back, a worried look on her face. He tried to tell himself she was no more worried over Berton than she would have been over anyone else, but as he watched her clutch at her tunic, leaving bloody handprints on the cloth, he wasn't sure that was really the case. When Kyran was done, he stood up, but it was too fast and he staggered backwards. Both Zevran and Jessimyn moved up to catch him.

"I'm fine," said Kyran. "And he'll be fine. Are you..." He said, looking at Jessimyn.

"It's just a scratch," she said as she moved to kneel at Berton's side.

Zevran watched as she helped him sit up. But then, she was just being a good leader, looking after her men... right? He forced himself to look around at the others, then at Kyran. "And you?" He asked the mage.

Kyran nodded at him. "I'm used to fighting without armor, so I'm a little more careful than the rest of you." His eyes took on a haunted look as he glanced at the three dead men lying on the ground.

"You can't always save everyone," Zevran said quietly. "No matter how much you want to."

No one got any more sleep the rest of that night. They made pyres for Colm, Reyin, and Badek, then gathered up their things and continued on their way back to the entrance of the cave. Everyone was very somber the rest of the way out, and Zevran noticed more than one man sleeping in his armor for the rest of the time they were in the Deep Roads. It was still shockingly cold, a layer of snow on the ground, but everyone seemed relieved to be outside.

The trip back to Redcliffe was slow and miserable, but they saw no more darkspawn activity the rest of the way there. When they finally arrived at the gates of Redcliffe Castle, they got a number of strange looks, and it took Zevran a moment to realize why. As cold as it was, no one had been too keen on bathing while they were gone, not even Jessimyn, and while he was sure they all looked terrible, they probably smelled worse. Of course, that just made the servants in the castle all the more eager to help arrange baths for everyone.

Once everyone was bathed, all but Zevran, Kyran, Berton, and Jessimyn went into town. Zevran knew most of the men were looking for a woman for the night, or at least for an hour or two, or if not that then just to get good and drunk, but Zevran just wanted sleep, in a real bed. Of course, if he wanted company in that bed, he didn't need to go to the local tavern to find it.

They were only in Redcliffe for three days, while Luc was procuring the things he needed to make his explosives. Kyran went with him on most of his excursions, as the two conferred on what their plan would be once they made it back to the cave. They would set charges both inside the cavern and out, in the ground above where they guessed the large room to be. Kyran and Luc would be just inside the mouth of the cave, to make sure they all went off at the same time. The plan sounded simple enough, but the simple plans were all too often the ones that too easily went wrong.

Teagan helped them find a ship that would take them back to the lake by the mountains. By the time they disembarked from the ship, it had started to warm up a little, although there was still snow on the ground. At least the wind was no longer rip-your-face-off cold. They found the cave again without only a little backtracking, and Luc and Kyran immediately got to work rigging it to cave it in.


	83. Jessimyn Chapter 83

"I just don't see why he has to be in there when the charges go off," Zevran said, folding his arms over his chest as he huddled against the cold. "It just seems too dangerous. He doesn't even have armor. Kyran can see to everything just as easily standing above ground with the rest of us. Having Luc inside should be good enough."

Jessimyn pulled her cloak around herself. "And if some of the charges fail to go off, we need Kyran's magic to get them to go." Zevran shivered and looked away, and Jessimyn smiled a little. "I know you're worried, but so am I. Do you really think I would risk Kyran, risk anyone, if there was any other way? Everyone will be as safe as we can possibly make them, but we have to do what is necessary."

Zevran sighed, still shivering as he rubbed his hands over his arms. The two of them were standing among the trees, away from the rest of the group. At least Zevran was respectful enough to bring up his objections while they were in private, but Jessimyn knew his reasoning was for personal reasons, and she couldn't let personal feelings interfere with what they needed to do. She watched him as he looked over at the others, none of whom seemed to be paying them any attention.

"I just wonder if it's really necessary," Zevran muttered under his breath.

Jessimyn put her hands on Zevran's shoulders, keeping her cloak in her hands so that it was partially wrapped around him as well. "I know you care for him, Zev," she said.

Zevran scowled at her. "It's hardly fair to bring that up now, nor is it fair to practically hug me when I'm trying to fight with you."

Jessimyn chuckled. "It's not my fault you came out here without a cloak. But don't change the subject. Your objections are based on your feelings for him and not on what you know we need to do."

He put his hands around her waist, but really, where else was he supposed to put them in with the way they were standing? "You care for him, too," he said casually.

Jessimyn smiled. "Yes, though perhaps in a different way from how you do. But that should make you know that I didn't make this decision lightly. Luc has ensured me that he knows what he's doing in setting the charges, but should anything go wrong, we will need Kyran down there to help make sure they go off. I think it's much safer for him to use magic from a distance than to have someone go back into the cavern once the fuses are lit. Don't you?"

"Depends on who that person is. I wouldn't mind it so much if it was Berton who went in," Zevran said with a smile. "Although perhaps _you _would. I know you care for _him. _Don't you?"

Jessimyn gave him a look. "I'm not sure now is really the time for personal conversations."

"Why not?" Zevran asked, pulling her a little closer. "Luc won't be done for hours yet. After all, you started it, yes?"

Jessimyn smirked. "I'm not sure that's really the case. Besides, you didn't really answer my questions, so why should I answer yours?"

His grin was wicked as he replied. "An answer for an answer, then. Ah, if only we were back in Antiva. We could make a game of this."

Jessimyn looked away, her cheeks turning pink. Shortly after arriving in Antiva, he had gone to her room late one night with a bottle of wine, proposing that they play a game. They were to take turns asking questions of each other, and the other person could either answer the question or drink from the bottle that contained more than just wine. It was the first night they were fully together, the first night they had done everything with each other, and by everything, it really meant _everything,_ including a few things she'd never done with anyone else before... or since. "Fine," she said. "You first."

Zevran had his arms fully around her now, which just meant that she had the cloak pulled completely around him as well. For warmth, of course. "He and I are lovers," Zevran said, his tone blunt but still managing to sound casual. "We have talked at length about you, however. He has told me it would bother him none if you and I still were as well. Lovers, I mean."

"And you believe him?" Jessimyn asked with a smile.

Zevran shrugged. "I don't know. Care to find out if he really minds?" He asked as he slid his hands down to squeeze her bottom. She lowered her arms a little, and Zevran gasped as the cold air hit him. He moved his hands back to her waist. "No, perhaps not."

She had, of course, suspected the two of them shared a tent for more than just the added body heat, but for some reason, having it confirmed made her stomach flip. Why did she suddenly feel jealous? Was it because of some hidden feelings she had for Zevran, or was it because they seemed happy, seemed to share something that she no longer shared with anyone? She couldn't really say for sure. She'd only ever really been in love with Alistair before, and that love was so all-consuming, it was difficult for her to say if it wasn't something different, something more. Was that was love really felt like, or was that affection combined with the thrill of their adventures and the passion and lust of a new relationship? If it was so all-consuming then, why didn't she feel the same way now?

As she often did when Alistair came to her mind, Jessimyn tried to draw on that anger she had felt upon learning about Highever, but it didn't seem to work anymore. Time had dulled the feeling, and the anger could no longer keep at bay the sadness she felt at what she had once had, what she had lost. So maybe she _was _just jealous of the relationship between Zevran and Kyran, but not because she wanted to be with Zevran instead. That was the safer answer to the question, anyway.

"Jess?" Zevran said. "You still with me? Or were you daydreaming about that hairy bear back there?"

Jessimyn chuckled softly. "No, I..." She shook her head. "You asked if I care for Berton. I do, but only as I care for all my men."

"And what do you mean by 'all your men'? I know your history, so that could mean different things..." Zevran said, his tone _almost_ innocent.

She smirked at him. "All my Grey Wardens."

"Uh huh." Zevran smiled. "Because that's not the impression I get. About you and Berton, I mean."

Jessimyn glanced over at the group of Grey Wardens. Berton's height made him stand out from the others, but seeing him didn't give her that rush of feelings she always got when she looked at Alistair. "He's my Duncan," she said softly, then shook her head. "He was there for me when I needed him, but he's more like a brother..." That word made her stop and press her eyes together. "He filled in some of the holes that Fergus left."

Zevran grinned. "Filled in some holes, did he? Though with the mention of your brother, it does take some of the dirty out of your meaning."

"I think it should take _all _of the dirty out of my meaning," Jessimyn said, caught somewhere between being offended and laughing. "I... know he wants more from me, but I don't think I want more from him. I just don't see him in that way."

She wasn't sure she liked the satisfied look on Zevran's face, but all he did was nod. Jessimyn leaned in, resting her cheek against his. "You seem happy, though. So does Kyran. I'm glad of that." They walked back to the camp then, but even though the cloak was now pulled tightly around her body, why was it that she suddenly felt colder?

Jessimyn went into the cavern to check on Luc's progress. He had tried to explain to her what he meant to do on their way back from Redcliffe, but Jessimyn had probably only understood one word in five. However, when she got to where he was, Luc was just standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. She was pretty sure that hadn't been in his description of what he was going to do. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"This isn't working," he said, his brow wrinkling. "The stone, it is too hard. I can't drill into it."

She waited for more, but there was nothing. "Well... so what do we do now?"

Luc let out a long, dramatic sigh. "We have to start over."

"What do you mean, start over?" Jessimyn asked.

"The charges cannot be set down here, so they will have to be set up above. That becomes more tricky, though, since it will be difficult to be certain that we have them directly over this room," he said. "And while the ground will be easier to drill into than the stone, it is still nearly frozen and covered with snow."

"Well... let's get started, then," she said with a smile, and Luc gave her an irritated look.

Luc directed the men to help him carry his supplies back out to the entrance of the cave. He kept them just inside because he said many of them were sensitive to temperature and moisture. He and those he personally chose to help him walked back and forth from the entrance to the cavern, counting their paces. Then they went above and did the same. This lasted all day, until it was too dark to see, but they had all agreed on where they believed the charges should be set, which they would begin setting up in the morning.

They no longer set up camp miles from the entrance to the cave. It had only taken a few days of hiking back and forth for everyone to agree they would just have extra people on watch and stay close by. Jessimyn had last watch that night, along with Jax. It was one of the hardest things in the world, to drag herself from her nice, warm bedroll and out into the cold when her turn came. She looked around, but Jax wasn't out yet, so she went to poke at the fire. She was adding more logs to it when she heard a sound and turned around. "There you are, I..." But it wasn't Jax standing behind her.

"Jax had a little too much to drink tonight, so I offered to take his watch for him," said Berton as he stood behind her. He had a strange look on his face, though. He almost looked... nervous?

Jessimyn just frowned, not wanting to read more into it than she had to. "No one should be drinking enough to become impaired, not this close to the Deep Roads. It's irresponsible."

"Easy, kitten," Berton said, smiling at her. "He wasn't _drunk_. To be honest, I offered to take watch from him because I wanted to talk to you."

Jessimyn sat down near the fire, with her back to it, and Berton sat at her side, just a little closer than she would have liked. "We talk all the time, Berton," she said.

"Yes, but obviously I wanted privacy for this conversation," he replied.

"We're supposed to be on watch," said Jessimyn, not sure she wanted to hear what he might have to say. "I don't think this is the time for something like..."

"I love you," Berton said, cutting her off.

Jessimyn stopped what she was saying mid-word and stared at him, her mouth hanging open. He met her gaze, his face carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to fade away as she sat there, struck dumb by his words. Minutes passed before she could finally speak. "But I... you... is this some sort of joke?"

Berton stood up faster than she would have thought he was able to move. "You know it's not a joke, Jessimyn," he said before he turned and walked away.

Jessimyn scrambled up after him. "Berton, wait," she said, but he continued walking away. She ran after him. Even though she caught up easily, she had to grab him by the arm before he stopped and looked down at her. Of course, once he had stopped, she realized that he probably expected her to say something, and she still didn't know just what that was supposed to be. "Berton," she began, but he didn't let her finish.

He grabbed her around the waist, his other hand going up into her hair, as he crushed her to him. His mouth descended on hers, and the kiss startled her almost as much as his declaration had. Maybe it was because of her conversation with Zevran earlier, maybe it was because she had been thinking too much about her own loneliness, but Jessimyn was kissing him back before she even realized what she was doing. Her response seemed to free him in some way, and his hands began moving up and down her back and sides. It was when his hand brushed over her breast, though, when she pulled away, bringing up her hands between them.

"No, Berton," she said. "No, we..."

That one word was enough, and his hands dropped to his sides. "Damn it, kitten," he said in that low, rumbling voice, and she shivered.

Jessimyn took a few steps back. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and then she turned and went back to the fire.

It was nearly an hour before Berton returned. Jessimyn had her knees drawn up and her cloak pulled around her entire body, but it didn't seem to do anything against the chill she felt, and she couldn't quite look at him when he sat down next to her. They sat in silence for a while before Berton spoke.

"When I first met you," he said. "I wasn't sure what to think. To be honest, I thought you were just some pretty figurehead for the Wardens here in Ferelden. I mean, I've known a few women Grey Wardens, but none even half as beautiful as you, and I wondered if it was just some ploy to try to drive up the number of recruits. But then I saw that you're not only gorgeous but smart, strong, resourceful, and you have this knack for inspiring those around you. You..."

"Stop, Berton," she said, still not looking at him.

"How could I not love you?" He asked, ignoring her request. "And I know you don't feel the same about me, but that's all right. And it's not some elaborate plan of mine to try to get you into my bed, though I still haven't given up on that." Berton cupped her cheek with his hand, turning her face so that she had to look at him. "I just wanted you to know. I'm not the type of man to hide what I think or feel."

"But how do you know that's really what you feel?" Jessimyn asked, pulling her head from his grasp. "You say you love me, but I'm the only woman around for miles, and have been for years now, almost."

He was quiet for a moment before he replied. "I don't need to convince you. If it makes it easier for you not to believe me, that is your choice. But I know how I feel." He put his arm loosely around her. "I'm not asking anything of you. I just wanted to tell you."

"Maybe you're not asking anything, but you still _want _something," Jessimyn said softly.

Berton chuckled softly. "You know I want you. But after the way you just kissed me, I wonder if you don't want it too, even if you're too afraid to admit it."

"Berton, I..." she began, and then she gasped, her back straightening. Berton jumped to his feet, and Jessimyn threw off her cloak, drawing her weapons. "To arms!" She yelled, "Grey Wardens, to arms!" The rest of the men were stumbling from their tents as the darkspawn poured out of the cave entrance. There were so many of them, including two emissaries and an ogre. At least all of the Grey Wardens had pulled on their armor this time, Jessimyn thought before focusing her attention on the fight in front of her.

Almost as one, the group of Grey Wardens moved to make a circle around the entrance of the cave, trying to stem the flow of darkspawn. The heavier fighters crowded just in front of the cave entrance, drawing the attention of the monsters, while Jessimyn, Zevran, Kyran, and Ethan stood to the side, flanking them as they came out. However, one of the emissaries managed to get past them all, scrambling up to stand behind the opening of the cave. The tunnel leading down into the cave went down steeply so that the ground above it formed only a small hill, but the rise was enough to give the darkspawn mage an advantage, and Jessimyn watched Jax and Daniel fall from its spells before she could race after it.

Jessimyn found Zevran at her side as she engaged the emissary. She saw something fly past her, causing the darkspawn to stumble, and she knew Kyran stood not far behind them. They fought like two arms on the same body, and as Zevran drew the emissary's attention, she struck from behind. When the mage turned its attention to her, they switched roles. It was only a matter of minutes before the creature fell, and they turned their attention back to the rest of their companions, who still stood crowded around the cave entrance.

But Jessimyn had no sooner turned around when she heard a voice cry out above the others. "NO!" It cried, and she saw Luc running towards Ethan. He had his bow pointed towards the ogre, which stood in the center of the other darkspawn. The tip of the arrow flickered, and she only barely registered that it was on fire before it was loosed. From where Jessimyn was standing, she couldn't see what happened, but the explosion was huge, throwing everyone back from the cave entrance.

She tried to run towards the others, but the ground lurched beneath her, and then suddenly it was gone. Jessimyn was falling before she even knew what happened, falling as the ground fell around her. Then came the impact, and with it the snapping sounds that could only mean bones were breaking. There was no pain, though. There was only blackness, and it engulfed her completely.


	84. Jessimyn Chapter 84

...

Everything was fuzzy. There was shouting, but it was coming from so far away. She could tell her body was at a strange angle, but she didn't know why. If she could just open her eyes, but it was like they were glued shut, covered with something thick and sticky. If she could just wipe them off... But the slightest movement brought the pain back, and the pain wasn't fuzzy. The pain was like a thousand explosions in her body, and the blackness sucked her under again.

…

More sound, but muffled. Where was she? Why couldn't she open her eyes? And why was it so hard to breathe? There was a strange pressure on her ribs. If she could just figure out what it was... But movement brought pain, and the pain was too much for her conscious mind.

…

"Jessimyn? If you can hear us, call out."

"It's no use. She couldn't have survived that fall. Neither of them could have."

…

Something was different. Some of the pressure on her body eased, and there were sounds, strange scraping sounds. But as the pressure lessened, her circulation returned to parts of her body she hadn't realized were numb, and the pain... it was too much.

…

Everything was different. She was lying on her back, and she could open her eyes... if she wanted to. There were hands on her feet and legs, cold against her bare skin.

"Ready?"

"Now."

The hands gave a sharp tug, and she managed to choke out a scream before everything went away again.

…

Something was wrong. She was lying on her back, and she could open her eyes... if she wanted to. There were hands on her head, and she tried to pull away.

"Shhh... be still."

The voice sounded familiar, but she didn't know why. Where was she? What had happened? It slowly came back to her. There had been an attack. She and Zevran... they had been on the way to the armorers, and the men had come from nowhere. Was the voice Zevran's? If she opened her eyes, she would know, but... no, it wasn't Zevran's voice. If it wasn't Zevran's voice, then it stood to reason it wasn't his hands touching her, either. Then who...

"Alistair?" She whispered.

The hands were gone, and it was all too much. She was so tired.

…

When she finally opened her eyes, Jessimyn saw that she was in her tent. Everything hurt. It was dark outside, but she could see the shadows from the flickering fire playing against the side of the tent. She tried to sit up, but it was too difficult.

"Don't try to move," said someone near her head. It sounded like...

"Berton?"

"Yes, kitten," he said, his voice thick with... something.

There was the sound of movement, then his face loomed above hers, though upside down. She tilted her head just a little to the side to try and see him better, and he moved to her side. "What happened?" She asked.

She was looking at him at a strange angle, but there seemed to be something odd about his expression. "What do you remember?" He asked her in return.

Jessimyn wrinkled her brow, thinking back. "Falling," she said. "I remember falling."

Berton nodded. "That idiot Ethan was using fire arrows, and he shot one into the group of darkspawn. Well, apparently having fire next to those barrels of stuff Luc brought back with him is a bad idea, and they exploded. The blast took out pretty much all of the darkspawn, since they were crowded around the center of it, but the rest of us were standing too close, too. It was like nothing I've ever felt before, and the force of it threw us all into the air.

"And..." Jessimyn coughed, then winced at a sharp pain in her side. "Kyran and Zevran? They were by me. Are they..."

Berton looked away and wouldn't answer. A surge of fear poured through her, and she struggled to sit up. Her right arm seemed to be on fire, but her left seemed sound enough, so she tried to roll onto her left side to push herself up. Berton immediately moved, pushing on her shoulders. "Stop it. You can't be moving around."

"How hurt am I?" She asked. It had to be bad. Everything hurt.

"Both of your legs are broken," he said. "Some of your ribs are cracked. Your right arm isn't broken, but it's bad enough. You came out pretty lucky, though. The way you fell, and thanks to your helmet, you managed to keep your head protected."

"What happened?" She asked again.

"The explosion blew through the tunnel and brought the ground down upon it. Unfortunately, you were standing right above it, so when the ground collapsed, you fell. You were standing nearly in the center, so the ground and rocks and everything from the sides fell on top of you. It took all day to dig you out."

Jessimyn moved her left hand, exploring her injuries. She felt the splints on her legs, and there was a tight wrapping around her ribs. A number of blankets were piled up on top of her, but she could tell that she was wearing only a short tunic. She glanced at Berton, and he scowled. "Zevran changed you out of your armor," he said, his voice harsh. "He made it quite clear to me that you wouldn't have appreciated my doing it. He bound you around your body, but I _have _had to change the dressings on your arms and legs. Out of necessity, of course, so try to keep your disgust to a minimum."

He was angry, and she didn't know why. It confused her too much to focus on it, especially when the first thing he had said drew her attention. "So Zevran is well?

He scowled again. "Yes. He's fine. Where he was standing, he was above the edge of the tunnel, so he ended up just sliding down a little. He came out of it better than any of the rest of us, with just a few scrapes and bruises."

"And Kyran?" She pressed. She wanted him to say Kyran was fine, too, but she knew that wasn't the case. If he was fine, she would have been healed by now.

"Kitten, you have to realize that the three of you, standing up where you were... you and Zevran only wear light armor, but Kyran doesn't wear any. He had no protection, and he was standing right behind you." Berton still wouldn't look at her.

"Just tell me," she said as she shivered, though she knew it wasn't from the cold.

Berton turned to face her, then he abruptly stood up. He strode for the entrance of the tent before she could even turn her head to follow him. "Berton!" She called, but her voice was hoarse and it didn't carry.

When he was gone, she felt the tears coming to her eyes. What did it mean? She began to shiver violently, overcome with the idea that Kyran might be seriously hurt. She wouldn't consider the idea that he might be... no. She tried calling out again, but there was no power to her voice. There was only one other thing to do, and she once again tried to sit up. She shifted to her left side, moving her hand under her to push herself up as well as she could. She managed to get to a half-sitting position and pressed her elbow into the ground behind her to brace herself. It was far as she could manage, but it gave her a much better view of the tent.

Her right arm was covered in bandages from wrist to above the elbow, but it wasn't splinted. She could move it, but touching it against anything made the pain flare. As carefully as she could, she used her right hand to pull back the blankets on her legs. The splints on her legs had been put on by someone who knew what they were doing, but her legs... they were still bent at strange angles. It made her dizzy just to look at them. If Kyran was... if he couldn't heal her...

"What are you doing? Lie back down."

She looked up as Zevran ducked into her tent. His face was drawn. He walked over to her, placed his hand on her back, and eased her back down. Then he flipped the blankets back over her legs and sat at her left side, taking her good hand in his. "Berton told me you were awake," he said. "Oh, Maker, Jess. I thought you were both dead..." He leaned over her, hugging her gently around the neck.

She finally had to tug gently on his shirt to get him to let go, and when he did, he wouldn't look at her. Instead, she studied him. She had never seen him looking worse. His hair, which was normally so perfect, was a mess. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were looking a little red. "Tell me about Kyran," she said. "Please, Zev."

"When they pulled you out of that... hole, I thought for sure you were dead. Your legs were bent at angles and in places where legs aren't supposed to bend. Your face was covered in blood." He smoothed her hair back from her face. "But Kyran..."

Jessimyn felt her eyes begin to sting. "Please tell me he's not..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"He lives... barely. He breathes. His heart still beats, though faintly. But Jess..." His voice caught, and it was a moment before he continued. "The whole left side of his body was crushed. His leg can barely even be called a leg, and his arm... it's gone. Luckily..." He scoffed, saying the word with scorn. "Luckily the boulder that severed his arm pinned it enough that he didn't bleed to death before we found him." He looked down at her then, his face filled with emotion. "Three of the men have left, gone to Redcliffe to take a ship to the Circle, to see if they can bring back a healer. Otherwise..." He took a breath. "Without healing, you probably won't walk again, Jess. But Kyran... every day he grows weaker, and I don't know if he'll last until they get here, but they're his only hope."

Zevran was suddenly angry, his face red. "What sort of cruel joke is it, that his life depends on those people who were so awful to him, who made it seem like putting his life in danger every day was the better alternative." But as quickly as the anger came, it faded away. "I have to go back. This is the first I've left his side since... and it's probably the first time Berton has left yours. But if you can wake up, maybe he... I have to go back." He leaned down, brushing her lips with a soft kiss, and then he stood up.

"Zev," she said, and he stopped in front of the flaps of the tent. "How long has it been?"

"Three days," he said, and then he was gone.

When she was alone again, there was nothing she could do to stop the tears. She was crying for Kyran, but also for Zevran, and for herself. She felt guilty, but she couldn't help but think about what Zevran had said about her. Without healing, she wouldn't walk again? If she couldn't walk, she couldn't be a Grey Warden. If she wasn't a Warden, what was she? It was the only thing that hadn't been taken away from her, but was that about to be rectified? And how could she be so selfish, worried about herself when Kyran lay dying.

She took a breath, trying to calm herself when she realized Berton was there, sitting next to her, just watching her. She quickly turned her face away.

"I've already seen your tears, so it seems silly to hide now. But then, perhaps that's just one more thing you would deny me," he said, his voice flat.

She turned back to him, incredulous. "Why... are you being like this? Why are you angry at me?"

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "You know, this is the second time something has happened, and I've been there for you, to hold you. It's the second time I've had to be there and know that there was nothing else I could do for you _but_ hold you. Not because you can't be strong on your own, but because sometimes we all just need someone to be there. But then, you always seem to make it so clear that it's not _me _you need or want, as this is also the second time that you've called me another man's name."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, not understanding.

"After your brother died, I held you, and you called me Duncan. Yesterday you called me Alistair." He sighed. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters. What matters is that you get better. Kyran, too, Maker willing. I guess I just realized that I lied to you, when I said I wasn't asking anything of you. I've been here, watching you, knowing you're in pain, knowing I can't do anything to help it, but here I am. Where else could I be but at the side of the woman I love? But I sit here, and I wonder if you would do the same for me. I wonder if something happened to me, if something happened where I needed someone, if you would..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Are you hungry?"

The change in topic made her head spin. "I... yes."

He nodded and got up, coming back only a moment later with a bowl of something. "I'm going to help you sit up, and then you're going to have to lean against me so that you can eat." When she nodded, he moved behind her, gently lifting her to a sitting position. She winced, her ribs aching. Berton maneuvered himself behind her, letting her lean against him as he picked up the bowl. "Think you can manage the spoon?"

It was just a simple stew, no different from what she had eaten nearly every night for the past few years it seemed, but it tasted wonderful. She managed to spill relatively little on herself, and when she was done, Berton eased her back down onto her back. He brushed a hair from her eyes. "Now get some sleep," he said, taking the bowl with him as he left the tent.

Jessimyn closed her eyes, amazed at how weary she felt, even though she'd apparently been asleep for the past three days. There was a rustling sound, and Jessimyn looked up to see Berton standing near her. He had come back into the tent and was removing his shirt. She'd seen him with his shirt off before, but never up so close, and she was surprised at how nice he looked. A little hairier than she typically liked, but nice. _What a strange thought, to have at a time like this_, she thought. He caught her looking at him and gestured to another bedroll which was rolled up in the corner.

"I'm sleeping in here, too. I have every night, and until you can get up and chase me out, I will continue to do so," he said, then went to set up his bedroll at her left side.

Once he was settled, he rolled to his back and closed his eyes. Jessimyn tentatively reached out her hand, her fingers just barely reaching to brush against his arm. Berton turned to look at her. "Thank you," she said.

He took her hand in his and pressed her fingers to his lips. "I would do anything for you, my love," he said. "Now go to sleep."

The next few days seemed to drag by. Luc, Eric, and Gyll had gone to the Circle, but the rest of the men came in to see how she was, though none stayed for long. Berton, though, was her constant companion. Her only complaint was that he seemed to thrash around a bit in his sleep, but it gave her a good excuse to ask him to move his bedroll a little further away from hers. He didn't want to accidentally kick her in his sleep, after all. He changed her dressings twice a day, and she was amazed that such large hands could be so gentle. When Jessimyn finally got a look at her right arm, she wished that she hadn't. It seemed like there were pieces of it missing, like there should have been more there. Berton washed her wounds as quickly as he could manage, but it was always almost more painful than she could bear, and she was often crying by the time he was done. How weak she was, to be crying from pain. Was she a child? It only made it worse that Berton always saw.

One day, after a particularly difficult session, Jessimyn said, "I want to sit up."

"What? No," Berton said, dismissing her immediately.

"Please, I need... please," was all she could say in return.

After a long pause, he moved behind her, gently lifting her and positioning himself so that she could lean against him, her back resting on his chest. Reaching her left arm around his, she pulled it across her body, shuddering from her repressed sobs as she clung to him. He stroked her hair until she finally calmed.

"Is this what I'm to become?" She asked. "Incapable of caring for myself?"

"You'll heal," he said softly, but she shook her head.

"What if the mages don't come? What if they don't get here in time?"

"After all you did for them?" Berton asked. "Gyll knows to emphasize that _you_ are one of the people who is hurt. I think they can manage sparing a mage or two for the person who saved the whole tower."

"It's not me that I'm worried about," she said. She tilted her head back to look up at him, though it was like looking at him upside down. "Will you do something for me, Berton?"

She felt his chest shake as he chuckled softly. "Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like it?" He asked, still stroking her hair.

"I want to see him. Kyran. I..."

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "He's in bad shape, and I don't know if you want to see him like that. Besides, moving you would be difficult, especially to try and maneuver you into the tent next to him. If something were to happen to either of you..."

"What if I order you to do it? I'm still in charge here, am I not?" Jessimyn demanded, though she knew her words held no weight.

Berton had laughed at her for that, but later that night, when he brought in her food, he told her that he had talked to Zevran about it, and they figured if they made some sort of litter, they could move her into Kyran's tent, at least for a little while. The next day, as she was being carried outside, Jessimyn looked up at the sky. She didn't want to see if the others were staring at her for some reason. Zevran led his end of the litter in first, not trusting Berton to walk too far into the tent. Once inside Kyran's tent, Jessimyn turned her head to look at him.

Most of his body was covered with blankets, but they didn't seem to lie right. His left arm stuck out above the blankets, but it ended just above where his elbow should have been. They set her down so that Kyran was to her left, and Jessimyn automatically reached out to touch him, but she stopped when she realized there was no good place where he wasn't injured in some way. Kyran's head was bandaged, and his face was deathly pale despite the heavy bruising. He had a fine growth of stubble across his chin, she noticed. Kyran had always been so meticulous about shaving, even when it was freezing out and the other men were all too happy to just let their facial hair grow.

Once she was set down, Berton left the tent, but Zevran lingered. "Zev," Jessimyn said. "Why don't you get washed up, have something to eat. He'll be fine with me for a little while." When he hesitated, she smiled at him. "If he were to wake up right now, would you really want the first thing he sees to be you looking like that?"

Zevran quirked his lips at her, but he left the tent, leaving the two invalids alone. Jessimyn turned her attention to Kyran. Her plan had been simply to talk to him, but the tears sprang to her eyes before she could say a word. She wiped at her face with her left hand. "I'm so sorry, Kyran," she said, her voice thick. "I was supposed to protect you, and I failed. You trusted me, and I let you down. You have to be all right. You have to just hang on until the healers get here. They should be here soon, just a few more days..."

Jessimyn wasn't sure what she had been expecting, as she lay there next to him. For some miraculous recovery? For him to suddenly wake up and start talking? Maybe a small part of her had hoped for those things, but they didn't happen. She talked, and he breathed, but at least he was doing that. Zevran returned after a little while. Though the dark circles remained under his eyes, he was much cleaner.

"Happy now?" He asked, though his eyes were on Kyran.

"Yes," said Jessimyn lightly. "You look better. You smell better, too." Zevran grunted and sat down at their feet. "What do you do all day?" She asked after a moment. "When you're in here?"

"I tell him stories," Zevran said, giving her a sad smile. "You used to like hearing about all my... adventures, so I've been sharing them with him."

"So tell one I haven't heard, then," she said.

It seemed like no time had passed at all when Berton returned to move her back to her own tent. Zevran left as soon as she was settled, leaving her alone with Berton once again. "Do you want to eat first, or should we change the bandages?" He asked.

"Bandages," she said, and he went about getting everything ready. Jessimyn watched his face as he carefully unwound the old bandage from her arm. "He's not going to make it, is he?" She asked, her eyes stinging. Berton didn't answer as he continued with her arm. It hurt, but that was all right. It gave her an excuse to cry. But then, that seemed to be all she was capable of doing anymore.


	85. Berton & Zevran Chapter 85

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was incredibly difficult to write. One of the hardest things was trying to decide whose PoV to tell it from, so it's split, rather than making it into two chapters._

Berton

"No," Jessimyn stated, trying to sound stern, and Berton almost laughed. She couldn't quite manage to be intimidating when she was lying on her back, unable to sit up on her own. Still, she tried. "You'll see to Kyran first. He's in much greater need than I."

The two mages from the Circle, who had just arrived, glanced at each other. "My lady," said the older of the two, her dark hair pinned back from her face. "Your companion may be beyond our healing. You are not. Let us do what we can for you."

"No," she said again. "I won't have you wasting your energy on me. I can wait. He cannot."

The younger mage spoke next. "My lady," she said, her voice almost patronizingly patient. "Your legs have already started to heal. I can see two places where we will probably have to re-break them in order to heal them properly. Every day that passes for you, they will continue to heal on their own, making it harder for us. The longer we wait, the less likely it will be that you will be able to walk again. As it is now..." She looked at the other mage. "You may not regain full use of your legs. At best, you will probably have a limp. And the scarring will probably be considerable."

"I don't care about that," Jessimyn said, but she turned her head away as she said it, and Berton could tell she was lying. She said it the same way she tried to say she didn't care about the scar on her face.

"With your friend," the older mage said. "Even if we _can _do anything for him, it will leave us drained of energy for days, despite the potions we brought with us. Your injuries are mild compared to his. Let us heal you, and then we will do what we can to ease his pain."

Berton saw the look the two mages exchanged, and he frowned. They didn't think they would be able to heal Kyran, he could tell. In fact, they seemed hesitant to even try. "Jessimyn," he said, knowing she wouldn't appreciate him calling her _kitten _in front of strangers. "Let them heal you first. After all, you won't want to be trapped in this tent, wondering what's going on, if his healing takes as long as they say. Zevran will likely want you there with him, which you won't be able to do if you can't walk."

He didn't like bringing Zevran into it, didn't like having to use him to get her to do what she needed to do, but he wasn't letting those mages leave the tent without healing her first. It was almost selfish really, but Berton just couldn't take another day of hearing her in pain. Of course, her injuries had helped him keep his mind off his own problems. Jessimyn didn't respond to his suggestion, but the mages took it for consent and began unpacking the small case they had brought with them. One of them handed him a large bottle.

"She will need to drink this," she said. "We will let you know when." They then moved to either side of Jessimyn. "We are going to heal your arm first, and then your ribs. Once those are done, we will move on to your legs. It will be painful, and it will be then that you will drink the potion."

Berton crouched near Jessimyn's head, watching as the older mage unwound the bandages from Jessimyn's arm. He had watched Kyran heal people many times, but it never failed to amaze him as he watched the flesh knit back together. When they finished with her arm, there was still a long scar running down the length of it. Berton didn't know if it was because the wound was a couple weeks old, or because they just weren't as skilled as Kyran was, but it didn't really seem to matter when Jessimyn lifted her arm and moved it about. Before, any movement of her arm had her nearly screaming in pain.

"Ribs now," said the older mage, and Jessimyn actually managed to push herself into a half sitting motion so that they could remove the bandages about her torso.

As she lay back down, her tunic was pushed up enough that it exposed most of her breasts. Jessimyn didn't really seem to notice, but Berton did. It was strange, as he had seen nearly as much twice a day for the past few weeks when he changed her dressings, but it seemed different now that he wasn't actively involved. They'd had to quickly get over any embarrassment or modesty issues, but as the mages healed her ribs, he looked away.

"All right," said the older mage, once they were done. "This is going to be the painful part." She looked at Berton. "We're going to have to re-break two of the bones, so we'll need you to hold her arms down for us."

He watched Jessimyn's face pale a little, and he reached for her hands, pulling them up above her head. She slid her hands up, gripping his forearms tightly as the mages began removing the splints from her legs. "Ready?" The younger mage asked, and then Jessimyn was screaming. She dug her nails into his arms. "Have her sit up, help her drink some of the potion," the mage said as they both sat back. Berton eased Jessimyn up, bringing the bottle to her lips. He couldn't bring himself to look and see what they had done to her legs.

The older mage looked at them both. "I want you to continue to drink that, a little at a time, as we heal your legs. This is going to take a while, and it probably won't be very pleasant."

She was not wrong in that. It seemed to take hours, and Berton's legs were cramping by the time they finished. Jessimyn had long since finished the bottle of the healing potion, and as soon as the mages finished, she immediately fell asleep. The two women left, and Berton pulled the blankets around Jessimyn before he, too, went outside to stretch. It was getting late, and all of the other men, besides Zevran and Kyran of course, were gathered around the fire. It was still cold outside, but the snow had finally melted, making the circle of white tents seem to stand out more against the trees around them. Berton glanced over at Jessimyn's tent, wondering if she'd be moving back into it now that she was healed.

"So... are they done?" Jandin asked, coming up beside him. "We saw them leave your tent and go into Zevran's. We heard the screams. Is she..."

"She's sleeping now," Berton replied. "They had to break her legs all over again before they could heal them."

Jandin winced. "Maker. I don't know how you stayed in there to watch it." He grinned. "Well, maybe I do, but I couldn't have done it. But look... uh... some of us have been talking. I think we're all going to pack up and leave pretty soon."

"What do you mean, leave?" Berton demanded. "It may take a while before Jessimyn and Kyran are back to full strength again."

Jandin looked away. "We all heard what the mages said. They don't think they can do anything for Kyran. No one wants to stand around and wait for him to die, if that's what's going to happen. No, I think what we're going to do is all split up, into twos, and go on a massive recruiting mission. Daniel and I are going to go east, to Gwaren and South Reach. Ethan and Gyll are going to go north, to the Circle and West Hill, maybe Orzammar and Jader, too. They'll escort the mages back when they're ready to leave. And then Jax and Thom are going to head into the Bannorn. It's close to spring now. We figure we'll all try to be back to Amaranthine by summer of next year, maybe try to have some huge Joining or something."

Berton nodded slowly. It was a good idea, and there really was no reason for everyone to stick around. The explosion had caved in the tunnel leading to the cavern, and the men had been working to completely seal it off, but they had finished over a week before.

"Besides," Jandin said with a smile. "Maybe if you and Jess can manage some alone time, something will finally happen there."

Berton shook his head, a small smile on his own face. "We've been alone before."

"Well, maybe you'll have to try harder this time," Jandin said.

"You know my rules," Berton replied, and Jandin rolled his eyes.

"You're an idiot," said Jandin. "_She's _an idiot. You're both..."

"Idiots, yes, I get it." Berton sighed. "Besides, maybe it's for the best." At Jandin's raised eyebrows, he told the man something he'd been hesitant to tell Jessimyn. He _would _tell her, of course, but the time was never right. Jandin looked shocked but didn't seem to know what to say. "Well, I'm going to go back, check on her. When she wakes up, I'll let her know your plans."

When he went back into the tent, Jessimyn was curled up on her side, which he took as a good sign. She had complained before about having to lie on her back all the time. If she could roll over, her legs must be feeling better. He sat down next to her on his bedroll, and she opened her eyes. "Kyran..." she murmured.

"The mages are with him now," he said softly, reaching his hand out to pet her head. "If you're feeling up to it, you can go see them tomorrow in the morning." He told her about Jandin's plans, and she nodded at him.

"I think with all we've seen here, it's apparent Ferelden needs more Grey Wardens. Will... you be going, too?" She asked, and there was the slightest edge of fear in her voice. That pleased him. It meant she didn't want him to go.

"No, kitten," Berton said, touching her cheek. "I'm staying here with you. I figure we'll all head back to Amaranthine, when you're ready." He should just tell her the rest, he knew, but now wasn't the time. Her eyes were already fluttering shut. Once she was better, he would tell her.

In the morning, Jessimyn managed to sit up on her own and get dressed. He had turned his back to her to allow privacy, but he turned back around when she asked him to help her stand. "Are you sure you're ready for that? I know you want to go see Kyran, but I can carry you over there if needed."

"I'd like to try and walk," she replied, and Berton stood, offering his hand.

The sight of her in a blouse and trousers made him want to push her back to the ground and tear the clothing off with his teeth, but he stood where he was, holding out his arm for her to clutch to as she tried to support herself on her wobbly legs. Such thoughts were hardly appropriate at a time like this. They walked very slowly across the camp, and all eyes were on her. The other men all came up to her, told her they were happy to see her better, but her focus was on making it to Zevran's tent. When they ducked inside, they saw Zevran alone with Kyran.

"Where are the mages?" Jessimyn asked, and he felt her fingers dig tightly into his arm.

"They're gone," Zevran said, his voice full of despair.

"What do you mean, they're gone?" Jessimyn demanded, and Berton put his arm around her waist as her legs nearly gave out on her.

He helped her sit on the ground next to Zevran, and then he left the tent. He had always been a little resentful, a little jealous of the bond among the three of them, but if what was happening was what he thought, Berton wanted to allow them the privacy of their grief.

Zevran

He couldn't look at her. From the time she and Kyran had gotten hurt, he had seen very little of her. There were moments when Zevran felt guilty for not being more concerned over Jessimyn's well-being, but she'd had Berton to look over her. Kyran had no one but him. And now...

"They were here for hours last night, just holding their hands out over him," he said. "Then they said there was nothing they could do, and they left." It had hurt to hear the words the night before, but now he just felt numb.

"Left... you mean left the tent, or..."

"They're on their way back to the Circle, as far as I know," he said.

"Why would they leave so suddenly like that? They didn't even try. They..." Jessimyn clutched at his hand, but he barely felt it.

"It might have been because I threatened to kill them both," he said with a shrug, pulling his hand away from her so he could idly run his fingers through Kyran's hair. "The arm I knew they couldn't heal, and I had little hope for his leg, but those things wouldn't have mattered if he would just wake up. But the crushed pelvis... you know, I wondered why he hadn't started looking gaunt, with the little amount of broth I've been able to get him to take every day. Apparently his body is swelling with fluid, as many of his vital organs have been damaged beyond repair. They say he probably only has a few days left, if that."

"Zevran..." she said, and he could tell by her voice that she was crying.

"Please, just go," he whispered. He didn't want to look at her, didn't want to see her healed and hate her because she had survived when Kyran would not. It wasn't her fault. But he needed to blame someone, and she was right there... "Go. Please, Jess."

It took her a few tries to stand up. He knew he should help, at least offer her a hand to get out of the tent, but he just couldn't. He hadn't moved in hours, and he couldn't make himself do so. Kyran was still alive, and he wouldn't leave his side as long as he was. If Kyran was going to die, he wasn't going to be alone when it happened.

The next few days passed by in a blur of nothingness. Zevran seemed only vaguely aware of what was happening outside his tent. There were sounds of people moving about for a day or two, and then it was silent. If Jessimyn didn't come to his tent every morning, he would have wondered if he and Kyran were alone. He grew less worrisome about his injuries, about hurting him, and he held the man to him as he slept. The morning he woke up to find Kyran's body cold in his arms, he knew that the fight was over, and that they had finally lost.

He left the tent, then, to fetch water. It was still dark outside, but he looked around to see that there were only two other tents still there: Jessimyn's and Berton's. Everyone had gone, it seemed, but that was just as well. The people who mattered most to Kyran were still there. He carefully washed his body, then wrapped him in a clean, linen sheet. After a moment's hesitation, Zevran reached for his pack and began rummaging through it. His fingers brushed the cold metal, and he pulled the small earring from his bag. He'd had it for so long, but... without further thought, he placed it in Kyran's ear. Only then did his emotions become too much for him to control, though luckily he had regained his composure before Jessimyn arrived that morning.

"No," she said softly as soon as she saw him. "Oh, Zev."

He felt her hands on his shoulders, but he shrugged her off. "Will you begin building a pyre?" Zevran asked.

She left to do as he asked, and it was later that day when Berton helped him carry Kyran's body out of the tent. There were no fancy words said, no heartfelt speeches. Nothing anyone could say would do Kyran any justice. Kyran's life had been filled with misery for so long, and for it to end now, when they had finally found happiness... it just didn't seem fair. Once the pyre was lit, Berton stayed for only a short while, leaving him alone with Jessimyn. She stood at his side on her shaky legs, holding his hand. He finally made himself look at her, but she withdrew from his gaze.

"Oh, Maker, Zev. Please don't look at me like that," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Like you wish it was me up there instead of him. You know I would trade places with him, if I could."

He touched her cheek lightly. "No, Jess," he said, shaking his head. "I don't wish that. I don't blame you, because you live and he doesn't." He tilted his head to one side. "You know, you talked about Berton, about how he was 'your Duncan.' Maybe you don't think I know what that means, but I do. I remember how much his death upset Alistair, how much the man meant to him. Well, I think you were Kyran's Duncan. You saved him from a life trapped in the Circle."

"But he'd still be alive, if..."

"Physically, maybe," Zevran said. "But that place would have killed him inside. The things they did to him there..." He shook his head. "He loved you like a sister."

"He loved you, too," she said softly. "I've never tried to pry, and I don't know if he ever told you that. I hope that he did. But I know he loved you."

Zevran closed his eyes, turning his face away. They stood there in silence while the pyre burned. Finally, Jessimyn left him alone, and his thoughts turned from despair to anger. Kyran deserved better than that, better than such a short life. He wanted someone else to suffer for the pain he felt at his loss. He wanted someone to blame, and he had an idea of where to go to find someone.

The two of them had been sharing Zevran's tent even before the accident, so Kyran's tent was still rolled up. He packed up all of his things, and shortly before dawn the next morning, he left. If he'd had paper and ink, he might have left Jessimyn a note, but he couldn't face her with what he needed to do. He didn't want her to try and talk him out of it, which he knew she would. No, he needed to do this, for Kyran. Someone would be held responsible for Kyran's death, but it wouldn't be any of the Grey Wardens. He gave a farewell glance to Jessimyn's tent. If everything went well, he would see her again someday. Rolling his shoulders back, he set off towards the north, towards the Circle Tower. There he would find people who deserved to suffer for what had happened to Kyran. There he would avenge Kyran's death.


	86. Berton & Jessimyn Chapter 86

Berton

They traveled in silence for most of the morning. When they had found that Zevran was gone, Jessimyn had not taken it well. That, along with Kyran's death, had Berton watching her closely. He couldn't afford for her to have another break like she'd had when Fergus died, because as must as he wanted to do whatever he could for her, he had his own issues to deal with just then. So he hadn't pushed for conversation, but he watched her.

Jessimyn moved with the slightest of limps, which seemed to worsen the longer they traveled. He hadn't really noticed it before, but now that she was upright and back in her armor, he could tell that the healing done on her legs was not the best one could have hoped for, as if the bones in her legs hadn't been quite perfect in their alignment before they were healed. Of course, that might have been because they had already started to heal on their own. The mages had rebroken her legs in the two places that were healing on their own the worst, but that didn't mean there weren't other places they'd just left as they were.

She was also forced to travel in her regular boots, not her armored ones, which had been completely destroyed in her fall. Really, seeing her old boots, how they had shattered, made it almost unbelievable that she was able to walk at all. But none of those things were what seemed to be on her mind, what occupied her thoughts. It was when they stopped for lunch that she finally spoke.

"I can't believe he just left," she said, looking down at the food in her hands. She sighed, then looked up at Berton. "He didn't even... say anything. He just left."

Berton nodded. "Yes. Like you did, after Fergus died."

"But that..." Jessimyn shook her head. "That's different. Besides, he's all alone. I wasn't alone, I had you. What would have happened to me, if you hadn't..." She looked away. "And there are darkspawn around. We know there are, but he won't be able to sense them."

"Nor will they be able to sense him," Berton stated. "Look, kitten, I know you're worried about him. Probably as worried as he was about you, when he found you'd just disappeared. But Kyran's death, however tragic, was not quite so traumatic as Fergus' was. He'll be fine. He probably just needs some time to himself. He knows we're going back to Amaranthine. He'll know he can find you there."

"He won't be back," she said softly. "There's no reason for him to go back now."

There was nothing Berton could say to that, so they finished the rest of their meal and continued their walking, again in silence. It was a few hours later when Berton heard a thud and turned to see Jessimyn on the ground, a look on her face that was so perplexed that it almost made him laugh. He tried not to smile as he asked, "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm fine," she said, struggling to her feet. "I just... tripped."

But as she tried to stand, he watched her legs shake and give out on her. She would have fallen again had he not moved to grab her around the waist. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting tired?" He asked.

"We still have hours of daylight left," she said stubbornly.

Berton smiled at her. "So should I drag you for a few hours, then? Carry you, perhaps? I don't think that's such a good idea." She scowled at him but didn't say anything, and Berton eased her to the ground. "I'll find a place to set up our tents," he said, grinning at her. "You wait here."

It didn't take long to find a suitable place, and then he went back to where Jessimyn was waiting. She stood up when he came back into view, probably worried about his threat of having to carry her, but she did grab onto his arm for support. However, they were only about halfway to the place he'd decided they would set up camp when her legs gave out on her again. He did pick her up then, despite her protests. "Maker," he said, feeling her legs twitch in his arms. "You're as weak as a..." He grinned. "As a kitten."

She snorted. "I'm not weak, I just... pushed it a little more than maybe I should have." But then she sighed, leaning her head against his chest. "I hope," she said, more to herself than to him.

Berton set up his own tent quickly, then went to help Jessimyn with hers. She had managed to unpack everything, but as he had finished with his tent, he noticed her increasing frustration with being unable to do much more than that. Once the tents were up, Berton built a fire. He suddenly felt very nervous. They still had a couple of hours until sunset, which meant it would be the perfect time to finally talk to Jessimyn about what he needed to tell her. He wasn't sure how she would handle it, though, given all of the other nasty surprises she'd had the past couple of days. Of course, there was also a small part of him that worried she wouldn't even care.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said, all in a rush. Jessimyn looked at him, eyebrows raised, and he took a deep breath. "I think my nightmares are returning."

Her eyes widened, and he watched as her face paled just a little. Was it wrong, to be happy that the news distressed her? "But... it's too soon," she protested.

"Sooner than I would have liked," he agreed. "But within the normal time frame." Berton looked away. "I had the first few while we were down in the Deep Roads, and I had hoped it was just being in that area that had triggered them, that they would go away once we were back on the surface, but... they haven't gone away."

He felt her hand on his knee and looked up to see Jessimyn kneeling in front of him. "So what do we do?" She asked.

That one word, _we_, pulled the corners of his mouth up into a small smile. "I have to go back to the Free Marches," he said. "I know you have traditions here in Ferelden, about what is done when a Grey Warden's time comes. Well, so do we. We'll still go to Amaranthine, of course. I'll want to... say my goodbyes, but then I'll be going on, going home."

"Do you.. want me to go with you?" She asked.

Berton took her hand, kissing her fingers before setting them against the side of his face. "No, kitten. I will spend my last few months in Ferelden with you, and that makes me happy, but once I leave this country, once I am back in the Free Marches, I will be going to my death. I can't have you with me for that. Either you would try to prevent it, or I would be taking you along with me, and I can't have either."

"But you'll be alone," she said.

Berton gave her a sad smile. "Everybody dies alone," he replied.

…

The nightmare was the same, yet different. It was dark, there were the sounds of guttural cries coming from all directions, and that same feeling, like something was pulling at him. He tried to run, but it was like moving through mud, and when he felt something grab at his leg, he cried out.

…

It was dark, and his heart was pounding in his chest. Berton took a few deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself back to sleep. However, when he heard a faint, rustling sound, his eyes flew open, and he sat up, groping for his sword.

"It's just me," came Jessimyn's voice from the front of the tent.

He could just make out her silhouette between the flaps of the tent, but then they dropped shut. He must have made a sound, he figured as he settled back into his bedroll, but then there was another sound, and Berton realized Jessimyn hadn't left his tent. He heard her move across the floor, and then he felt her curling up around his head. Berton opened his mouth to say something, but then she was running her fingers through his hair, making soothing sounds. He realized she had never really voluntarily touched him before, not like that. He actually tried to force himself to stay awake, to enjoy it, but he was drifting...

It took him a moment to realize what was different in the morning, but only a moment. Jessimyn was still there, still asleep, still curled around him. He was lying on his back, and she was above him and on her side, so that his head was pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped lightly around his head. Her leg was draped across his chest, and he had his arm wrapped around it, hugging it to him, his hand resting on her leg just above her knee. Berton did his best not to move, not wanting to disturb her, but having her that close to him was doing things to his body that he couldn't control.

After a while, he felt Jessimyn shift, and her arms unwrapped themselves from around his neck. He figured she would get up then, to go back to her own tent and change back into her armor, but she didn't. Instead, he felt her hands on his head as she started running her fingers through his hair again. It only lasted a minute, though, and then she was getting up, though she pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before doing so. Berton still had his eyes closed, and he hadn't moved the whole time. Not to pretend he was asleep, but simply because he hadn't wanted to scare her away.

"Looks like someone is awake after all," he heard her say, a chuckle in her voice. "Or at least parts of you are."

Not much could embarrass him, but _that_ did, and he sat halfway up, pulling his knees toward him so that the view of his lap was obscured. Of course, he wouldn't let her know that he was embarrassed. "What sort of reaction _should _I have, when I wake up to a beautiful woman draped all over me?" He asked with a grin.

Berton had expected her to blush, as she often did when he said such things, but she just smiled down at him. "I don't know. The next time you get one in such a position, you let me know." She shook her head. "You were having a nightmare last night. I just... I should go get dressed. I'll let you do the same... you know, once you're able."

She turned to go, but he reached out and grabbed her hand just before she was out of reach. She turned back to face him, eyebrows raised. "You don't have to go," he said in a low voice. "Why don't you stay? We probably wouldn't be able to walk all day anyway, so it won't matter if we get a late start."

"I think any activities you might have in mind would probably just lead to me being able to walk even less," she said, quirking her lips at him, but she didn't pull her hand away.

Berton gave her a little tug, pulling her down so that she was kneeling at his side. He sat up fully and traced a finger down her cheek. "I'm willing to risk it," he said before lowing his lips to the side of her neck. She made a small sound, and then her fingers were in his hair again. Taking both as encouragement, Berton shifted her so that she was lying at his side. He nibbled at her neck, but once again, as soon as his hand brushed over her breast, she was pulling away, pushing him back. Then she was making excuses as to why she had to leave. But as she exited the tent, he couldn't help but smile. He had seen the flush to her cheeks, her wide, dilated eyes. Someday he would get her to admit she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Hopefully that someday would be soon.

Jessimyn

As they had the day before, they traveled mostly in silence. That was just as well for Jessimyn for a number of reasons. For one, she was trying to concentrate on the simple act of walking itself. She was doing her best not to limp, but it was difficult. Her feet didn't quite seem to hit the ground like she was used to, and it made her gait seem a little awkward. She had to look ridiculous, she knew, walking on legs that didn't feel like her own. Of course, nothing she seemed to feel lately felt familiar.

Berton, of course, presented his own slew of problems. Not that _he'd_ changed. He was still the same Berton she had once despised, but now... she didn't know. She didn't love him. She knew that much, but beyond that it grew blurry. She actually found herself wondering why she shouldn't just sleep with him. Not being in love had certainly never been enough to stop her before. Indeed, she liked him more than she ever had liked Teagan, and she'd gone to _his _bed willingly enough, though that had admittedly been a mistake.

But why was she considering it now, when she never had before? His kisses had certainly awakened something within her that she hadn't felt in a while, but she didn't think that was it, or at least that wasn't all of it. Yes, Jessimyn was lonely, but it was more than that. Kyran's death, and Zevran's disappearance, had brought back some of that familiar coldness she'd felt after Fergus' death. That, coupled with Berton telling her about his nightmares returning... it scared her. As with Fergus, she felt the need to remind herself that she was still alive, but she wanted Berton to feel alive, too.

After everything he'd done for her, she couldn't do the one thing for him that he wanted from her? But then, she doubted he would appreciate her looking at sex with him to be something done out of pity. But is that really what it would be? It had taken surprisingly little for him to elicit a response from her, even when she had tried to fight it. Maybe the question she should be considering was why she was hesitating. There was no good reason, except, well... it was Berton. Despite all of his best efforts, Jessimyn had never been able to see him as anything other than a friend. Albeit an annoying friend at times, but still. Of course, that's how things had started with Zevran, too.

As the day wore on, her attention switched back from Berton to her legs, and she managed to stop before she collapsed again. That was a humiliating experience she didn't wish to repeat, so she had been on the lookout for a place to camp as she went from limping to wobbling.

"I think this will do," she said, as they passed by a small stream. "Let's stop and camp here." Jessimyn didn't look at Berton as she spoke, embarrassed that she had to stop so early. She knew that, without her, he could have walked for hours yet, but she could not. In fact, she had no sooner set her pack on the ground than she had to sit. Grateful as she was that she could walk, Jessimyn still wished that the healing on her legs could have been better. But then, such thoughts led to an overwhelming amount of guilt. How could she feel that way? At least she had been given a second chance. Kyran had not received such an offer.

She looked up to see Berton looking at her expectantly and realized he'd spoken. "I'm sorry, what?"

His face was carefully neutral. "I asked if we should set up one tent or two."

"Oh, I..." She didn't know what to say. Had there been other people with them, she would have said two without hesitation. But it was just the two of them... and if she kept pushing herself as hard as she was, it might be weeks before they made camp when she still had enough strength to set up her own tent. And as there _were _just two of them, neither of them kept watch, so didn't it make sense for them both to be in the same tent? If something happened, one could alert the other without having to shout across the camp. It wasn't like they hadn't shared a tent before, and... why was she trying so hard to find justifications for why they should share again? "Just one," she said, and he nodded, though she thought she saw the faintest of smiles on his face as he turned around.

The bad thing about making camp so early was that it left a lot of time for sitting and staring at each other. A fire had been built, meals had been eaten, they'd even both gone down to the stream to wash up as best they could in such a small amount of water, but there was at least an hour left before sunset. She couldn't take it any longer, though, and Jessimyn went into the tent. She changed out of her armor and into a long tunic, though she decided to forgo the long socks she normally wore when it was cold, since the night air was warm enough that she figured she wouldn't need them. She had just gotten settled into her bedroll when she heard Berton outside.

"May I come in?" He said, his tone oddly formal.

"Yes," she replied.

Berton entered the tent, and she immediately turned onto her side, her back to him to afford him some privacy. Jessimyn heard the sounds of him removing his armor, but she kept her back to him until she heard him sliding into his own bedroll, which had been placed a respectable distance away from her own.

"Kitten," he said as she turned to face him. "I want to ask you something. I..." He frowned. "You're too far away. Do you mind if I move my bedroll closer?" At her hesitation, he smiled. "I promise to keep my hands to myself. Unless you want them on you, of course, but then I'll let you show me where."

"That's... fine," she said, a little suspicious.

"That isn't what I wanted to ask, though," Berton said as he settled himself closer to her, rolling onto his side to face her. Hands were placed just so, that they might be in reach should she choose to take him up on his offer. "No, what I wanted to ask..." He held her gaze for a moment before continuing. "I want to make love to you, Jessimyn. I'm not asking for right now. In fact, I think I would prefer to wait until we get back to Amaranthine, where we would have a proper bed and I could have you all to myself for a full day without worry of what was going on around us. I ask now because I want you to have time to consider it."

The bluntness of his request shocked her. "I... to what end?"

He laughed, though it seemed a hurt look passed briefly across his face. "I know it's what I've wanted for some time now. I think you might want it, too. But truthfully, I want memories of you, naked in my bed, flushed with pleasure, to take with me when I go back to the Free Marches." Berton reached out to touch her face, then stopped, probably realizing he'd told her he'd keep his hands to himself. Jessimyn touched his hand, guiding it to her cheek to let him know it was all right. He stroked his fingers down the line of her jaw. "I know you don't love me, kitten," he said. "And while that might have been my aim in the past, I realize now it's for the best. It will be hard enough to leave you, but if I thought I was leaving behind someone who loved me..." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "I still want the memories, though. For you as well as for me." Berton smiled at her. "So will you at least consider it?"

"I... yes," she said, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he said, his voice that low rumble that seemed to slide over her skin. "Put my hands where you want them, so I don't put them somewhere you would rather they weren't."

Every day was practically the same. They walked until Jessimyn was no longer able, though she got stronger with each passing week until she was finally able to go all day. They set up one tent, with their bedrolls next to each other. He would kiss her, but she couldn't bring herself to let it go any further than that. He held her, when she found herself missing Kyran or Zevran more than she could handle, and she held him when the nightmares woke him from his sleep. Almost as though through some unspoken agreement, they decided not to stop in any towns where they knew anyone, skipping over Redcliffe but staying in Lothering. As they got closer to Denerim, there was no question that they would pass it by as well.

Of course, as they got closer to Amaranthine, Jessimyn knew that she would have to give Berton an answer. They were only a few days away, but she still hesitated. It shouldn't be a difficult decision to make, a simple yes or no.

"Kitten," he said, taking her hand in his as they sat near the small fire. He smiled at her. "It's all right if your answer is no. You know I haven't pushed for an answer, but if it's taking you this long to decide..."

And as he said that, Jessimyn realized that she knew what her answer was. She'd been hesitant in giving it not because she was unsure but because of her worry over what the repercussions of her decision might be. Of course, the actual making of the decision was not the hardest part. No, that was going to be letting Berton know what it was.


	87. Jessimyn Chapter 87

They had been back in Amaranthine for a few days, but where once it had felt almost like home, it now felt strange to Jessimyn. It was almost like the traveling had kept her mind off of what would be waiting for her when she returned. Or rather, what wouldn't be waiting. Kyran wasn't there, and he was never coming back. Her heart ached whenever she thought of it, and she had kept mostly to herself since they passed through the main gates. There had been too many questions, too many people wondering what had happened, and she hadn't been able to deal with it. Like the coward she was, she had fled, leaving Berton to deal with the inquiries. It was not only cowardly, but also completely unfair to him. He had his own worries to deal with.

What hurt almost more than Kyran's absence, though, was Zevran's. At least with Kyran she knew what had happened. She missed him dearly, but at least she had some sort of closure. With Zevran, she had no idea where he had gone, why he had gone, and whether or not she would ever see him again. After all, what reason would he have had, to return to Amaranthine? She held no delusions that it had not been for her that he had stayed before. With Kyran gone, Zevran had no real reason to come back, and that made her ache as well. As she sat, curled up on a chair in her sitting room, she wondered if that's how it would feel when Berton left, too. He would just go, and she would never see him again. She would never really know what happened, would never be certain if he lived. Would there just come a day, when she would tell herself that he had to be dead by then? It was a grim thought.

Jessimyn reached out a hand to rest on the large stack of letters that had been waiting for her in her sitting room. When first she saw them, there had been a vague hope that Zevran had written, at least to tell her that he was all right, that he was still alive, but there was nothing from him. Instead there was a small stack of letters with Alistair's familiar handwriting on the outside. Dates had been written on the corners to indicate when they had arrived, but Jessimyn couldn't bring herself to open any of them. There were also two letters from Leliana, but she couldn't open those either.

What she really wanted was to be gone again, on some sort of mission that would take her time and attention. It didn't seem to matter that she had just gotten back, had been so happy to sleep in a real bed, take a long bath, eat hot meals. With a sigh, she stood up and went to pull her boots on. As she moved, she caught her reflection in the mirror standing in the corner of the room. The first night back, she had stood naked in front of it for a long time, inspecting her flaws. Her legs were definitely crooked. Her left took a slight, unnatural bend in the middle of her calf, and her right bowed outwards so that it was almost painful to put her knees together. The scars on her arms looked worse than they ever had before, and the marks on her face and shoulder were hideous and disfiguring. Pulling her hair back from her face, Jessimyn had examined it from many different angles, wondering if she would scare small children.

Now, it seemed the mirror just stood there to mock her. Her long, loose trousers, along with the long-sleeved blouse she wore hid most of her scars, but there was nothing she could do about her face. It made her wonder why Berton would even want to look twice at her. Maybe she had been pretty once, but no longer. She went over and turned the mirror backwards, so it faced the wall. Maybe she would ask someone to remove it for her. Reaching for a piece of paper sitting on a table near the door, she exited her room and made her way down the hall, then up the stairs at the end.

Her feet made strange clicking sounds on the ground as she walked, as if to emphasize her odd gait. Well, what was being home, if it didn't make you dwell on your own imperfections? She almost laughed to herself, but then she arrived where she was going, and the laughter died on her lips. Glancing briefly at the paper in her hands, Jessimyn took a breath and knocked on the door in front of her. There was the shuffling sound of feet crossing the floor, and then the door opened. Berton stood there, looking almost surprised to see her, but then he stood aside, gesturing for her to enter.

His rooms were larger than her own, as he had taken some that were in the Howe's old family quarters. She moved to the center of the room, clutching the paper in her hands. "I have this report that Herich gave me, and I was hoping you might look at it."

Jessimyn felt him put an arm around her waist, letting it rest on her stomach. "You don't have to come up with excuses to see me," he said, his voice soft and low.

"It's not an excuse," she protested, not turning to look at him, and he plucked the paper from her hand as he pulled her closer to him.

"Let's just see, then," he said, the amusement clear in his voice. He moved backwards, pulling her with him as he sat on the couch. He grabbed her hand, tugging it so that she ended up on his lap. Berton pushed her hair aside, nuzzling her neck for a moment before turning his attention the the paper. "Hmm... yes, definitely an excuse, kitten. And not even a good one. So tell me, why are you _really _here?"

She stood up, turning her body so that only her right side was facing him. "I..." Jessimyn realized she had nothing.

Berton stood up as well, putting his hands on her arms to turn her so that she would face him fully, but she kept her head turned slightly away. He frowned at her. "Jessimyn, if you've changed your mind, it's all right. Just because you said you would spend the night with me, it doesn't mean you have to, if that's no longer what you want. You know that."

"No, I... it's not that," she said, and she heard him let out a soft, relieved-sounding sigh.

He tilted her head up so that she had to look at him. "Then what? The way you've acted around me lately..." A smile passed across his lips. "You act as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night."

Jessimyn let out a soft laugh. "That's not a bad analogy. That's a little how I feel..." She shook her head. "Would you think less of me, if I told you I just wanted to... get it over with?"

Berton ran his fingers through her hair, that small smile still there. "No, though I'll think less of _me _if you still think that after our first hour." He leaned down and kissed her softly, and she had to stand on her toes. But kissing was easy. Kissing she could deal with. It was everything else...

"So when, then?" She asked as she pulled back from him.

He ran his fingers down her cheeks. "You know I want a full twenty-four hours where neither of us leave this room. How about tomorrow afternoon?" He moved his hands up her sides, letting his thumb brush the side of her breast. "As much as I would like to just tear your clothes off now, there are a few things I want to do to prepare." At her look he grinned. "Orders for food to be brought at certain times, things like that."

As she made her way back to her room, Jessimyn's stomach seemed to be all aflutter. It just all seemed so strange. Wasn't sex supposed to be something that just happened? It wasn't supposed to be planned in advance... was it? It didn't help the already anxious feelings she was having about the whole thing. In fact, it ended up taking a couple glasses of wine for her to finally fall asleep that night, only to awaken the next morning feeling even more nervous.

She didn't see him at breakfast that morning, for which Jessimyn was glad. It would have been too much. Normally, her morning would have been spent in the yards, but she had a bath drawn instead. Then it was on to decide what to wear. She felt ridiculous, standing naked in front of her wardrobe full of clothes, trying to pick something out. What she wore didn't matter. After all, how long would she really end up wearing it? Fingers trailed lightly over the various fabrics. She wasn't going to wear a dress, because she never wore dresses. But trousers didn't seem right, either. A light, pretty blouse was selected, and then she found a skirt, tucked into the back, that was the same color as the blouse, a pale ivory.

She almost laughed. If he thought her a nervous, virgin bride, she would go to him that way. She even had a vase of flowers in her sitting room, and she selected a small, white daisy to tuck behind her ear. The mirror was still turned away, which was just as well. Jessimyn knew that if she saw how ridiculous she probably looked, she would have to change again, and really, she _did _just want to get it all over with.

When it was time, she made her way back to Berton's room. She felt the fool as she walked, like everyone was staring at her, though she passed very few people between her room and his. Once again, she hesitated before knocking, once again she heard him crossing the floor to the door, once again it was opened and she was silently welcomed in. When the door was shut and locked behind him, Berton turned to look at her, the expression on his face unreadable. She suddenly felt stupid and yanked the flower from her hair. He raised his eyebrows at her.

Jessimyn shrugged. "It was a stupid joke," she said, her voice almost even. "You said I was acting as nervous as a..."

"I remember," he said, and then he crossed the small distance between them, crushing her to him as his mouth descended onto hers. Hands grasped at her blouse, pulling at it so that it was no longer tucked into her skirt, and she gasped as she felt his hands against the skin of her stomach. Jessimyn pressed her body against him, feeling his growing arousal as he let out a groan. The hands on her stomach moved up her body, groping at her breasts, and for the first time she didn't pull away. Instead it was Berton who took a step back, dropping his hands to his side. "Wait..." he said, chuckling softly to himself.

"What is it?" She asked.

"This isn't how..." He smiled. "We keep going like that, and I'm going to end up fucking you right here on the floor."

A shiver went through her at his words. "Well... isn't that sort of the point of all this?" She asked, and he put his arms around her again.

"I don't want to _fuck _you kitten, I... well, that's completely untrue. Of course I do, but I want to make love to you first." He picked her up in his arms, moving toward the bedroom door, which had been left open just a crack so that he could push it open with his foot. He set her gently on the bed, then began undressing her. Her shoes went first, then his. Her blouse was then discarded next, along with his own shirt. There was something very sensual about the feel of his skin on hers as he ran his fingers up and down her torso. Berton kissed her as he explored her upper body, but then he shifted so he could take a nipple into his mouth.

Jessimyn moaned softly, running her own fingers through his hair and over his shoulders. As her body began to relax, she realized just how tense she really had been. Closing her eyes, Jessimyn allowed herself to focus solely on what she was feeling. Berton caressed her throat softly with his hand as he sucked at her breasts, and when he finally reached to stroke her through her skirt, she gasped and arched her body against him. A tugging sensation at her hips was quickly followed by the feel of her skirt being pulled off, tossed aside with the rest of her clothing.

There was nothing for a moment, and Jessimyn opened her eyes, suddenly afraid that Berton was disgusted by her misshapen body. When she looked at him, though, the look on his face was quite the opposite as he looked her over. He ran his hands up and down her legs, up and just past her knees, then back down to her feet. His hands massaged their way up her legs ever so slowly, and by the time he finally made it up to her upper thighs, she was thrusting her pelvis up at him, aching for his touch. She heard him shift on the bed again, and his mouth closed over hers as he slid a finger inside her.

She had noticed how large his hands were before, but had never thought about them in this context, and when he worked another finger inside her, she cried out. "Oh, Maker, Berton..." She moaned against his lips. "Oh, Maker..."

Teeth latched onto her earlobe, sending a shiver down her body, and she felt his hot breath on her ear and neck. "Yes, Jessimyn," he said in that low, rumbling voice. "Say my name." That voice did things to her all on its own, but coupled with the fingers thrusting in and out, it brought her climax sooner than she had expected, and she arched up, nearly coming off the bed.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she realized she could feel that the hand that had been between her thighs was resting on her stomach, but he wasn't otherwise touching her. Jessimyn opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, a look on his face that seemed to hold too many emotions. There was a lusty hunger there, which she would have expected, but there was something more, too. A look that only Alistair had ever given her before, and it was almost too much. But then he grinned a very Berton-grin, and she felt her face flush.

"That was too easy," he said before leaning down to kiss her. Jessimyn put her arms around him, running her hands over his back and sides, but when she moved a hand down to brush against the strained cloth at the front of his breeches, he pushed her hand away. "Not yet, kitten," he said, and then his mouth seemed to be everywhere.

He kissed his way up and down her arms, across her chest, down her hips, over her knees, ending at her feet. Placing his hands on her knees, Berton pushed her legs apart. He ran his tongue up the inside of her leg, pulling a sharp gasp from her lips. He laughed. "Seems I remember telling you I wanted to do that," he said before burying his face between her thighs.

He teased her with his tongue, making it difficult for her to lie still. She squirmed under his touch, and he slid his arms under her legs, pushing them up so they rested atop his shoulders. One hand extended up to pinch at a nipple, while the other moved down to stroke any of her sensitive skin not covered by his mouth. He squeezed her bottom, but when she felt the slightest pressure in a place no one had ever touched her before, she gasped loudly, reaching down to pull at his hair. Berton paused briefly, but his mouth quickly renewed its assault, and his tongue managed to bring her almost as easily as his fingers had.

When she once again regained control of her senses, she looked up to see Berton kneeling between her legs. The look on his face was one purely of lust this time, and he took her hand in his and brought it to his groin. She stroked him lightly, and this time it was _his_ eyes that closed, _his_ mouth that opened to let a moan escape. Once she managed to untie the laces of his breeches, he shifted his body to slide them down his legs, one more article of clothing to be added to the growing pile. She reached for him again, fingers brushing over his smooth skin. His body slid forward, hips aligning with hers, and he propped himself up on one hand as the other positioned himself at her entrance.

He held himself there for a moment as he looked down at her, and she lifted her hands to brush her thumbs across his nipples. Berton grunted, bending over to nip at her neck, before pushing himself inside her. Jessimyn lifted her hips up to him, but he clutched at her waist. "Wait," he gasped. Berton buried his face in her hair, keeping his body still for a moment, holding himself so that she could feel the weight of his body on her without it crushing her. Finally he began moving his hips in long, almost tortuously slow thrusts. Jessimyn lifted her legs to wrap loosely around his back as she trailed her fingernails lightly over his shoulders.

"Oh yes," he moaned. "Harder."

Jessimyn laughed softly against him. "I will if you will," she said as she raked her fingernails down his back.

Berton let out a low, throaty sound, his thrusting picking up in intensity and speed. His hand tangled itself in her hair, and he bit lightly at her neck and shoulders as he moved atop her. Every time he seemed to grow close to his release, he slowed, pausing for a moment if needed, before starting again. It was only once Jessimyn's body tightened around him, once her climax brought her gasping for breath, that he allowed himself to go as well, finally collapsing on top of her. He stayed there for only a moment, though, before rolling to lie at her left.

"Maker," he said, running a finger over her lips. "You're so beautiful."

She couldn't help but let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, and she turned her head, pressing the left side of her face against her shoulder so he wouldn't have to look at it. The look Berton gave her seemed almost hurt. "Why do you do that?" He asked. "Do you not believe me, when I say you're beautiful? Do I seem the type of man to give you empty words?"

"No," she said softly.

"I've seen you, Jessimyn. I've seen _all _of you, and you are beautiful." He tilted her face so that he could see her scar and kissed his way across it. His lips moved down to the scars on her left shoulder, then across her body to the scars on her right arm. He sat up, a little smile on his face. "You know, though... there's a part of you I haven't seen quite as much of as I'd like." She arched an eyebrow at him, and he laughed. "Roll over."

He rolled her onto her stomach, then moved to where she couldn't see him. "Mmm... lovely," he said, and Jessimyn was glad he couldn't see the blush rising in her cheeks. His hands moved up and down her backside, massaging her arms, back, and legs. When she felt a familiar hardness press against her, she lifted her bottom up into the air. Berton wrapped an arm under her, moving her into a position so that he could enter her again. His fingers dug into her hipbones as he moved with her, and once they were spent, he rolled them both onto their sides, his body curled around hers.

Jessimyn didn't even know that she dozed until Berton woke her. "Hungry?" He asked, and she nodded. She climbed out of the bed and reached for her clothing, but he pulled them away. "You don't need those," he said with a grin, leading her into the sitting room.

While she had slept, he'd had someone bring in a large copper tub, which was filled and waiting. A tray sat at its side, covered with fruits and bread. He smiled at the look on her face, then climbed into the tub, pulling her in after him to settle against his chest. They nibbled at the food, and Berton told her about the Free Marches. She told him about growing up in Highever, and then they made love again before the water grew too cold to stand any longer. It was still early, but they climbed back into bed together and promptly fell asleep, arms wrapped around each other.

When Jessimyn awoke, it was dark outside, and she was alone in the bed. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The door that led to the balcony outside was open, and she padded softly across the floor to find Berton standing outside, looking out over the sea. She touched him lightly on his arm, and he turned to look at her.

"Did you have another nightmare?" She asked.

Berton shook his head, pulling her into his arms. "No, love." He kissed her on the top of her head. "I just... needed some air." A smile played across his lips. "And I figured that, if I went back inside and you were still there, I could be sure this wasn't a dream."

"Why did you need air?" Jessimyn asked, pulling back from him a little. "Is something wrong?"

He twirled a lock of her hair around a finger. "Only that I'm going to have to leave you in a few weeks. Only that I could be with you every minute of every day until I leave, and it wouldn't be enough." He sighed softly, pressing his body to hers. "Only that I love you, but I can't keep you." He smiled at her then, but it seemed a little forced. "And maybe I regret that it took you so long to finally come to your senses."

Jessimyn leaned her head against his chest. If he still had years, if his nightmares hadn't returned, she wondered, would she even be there with him? But then, would she have waited so long, had she known how much she would enjoy their time together? "All we can do is make the most of what time we have," she said, as much to herself as to him.

One of his hands reached up to stroke a breast while the other groped at her bottom. "I won't argue with that," he said in a husky voice, pushing her up against the railing of the balcony. "I think _now..._" he said. "_Now _I want to fuck you."

He turned her around so that she leaned across the railing, spreading her legs so that he could fit between them. The sex was frenzied that time, driven by need more than anything else. When they finished, Jessimyn tried to stand, but her legs wobbled beneath her. Berton caught her around the waist, laughing as he picked her up in his arms. "I'm going to take your inability to stand as a compliment," he said cheerfully as he carried her back inside.

Sleep overtook her as soon as her head hit the pillow, and it was well past sunrise when Jessimyn finally woke up. Berton was still fast asleep, and she extracted herself from his arms and climbed from the bed. One of his shirts was pulled on as a robe, and Jessimyn went out to the sitting room, peeking out the door before scurrying down the hall to the garderobe. When she returned to his room, Berton smiled lazily at her from the bed. She climbed up next to him, but he shook his head. "Lose the shirt, kitten," he ordered.

Rising on her knees, Jessimyn slowly peeled it off, very aware of the heated look in Berton's eyes as he watched her. It was hours later before they got back out of bed, at which point he went to fetch them food. They ate in the bedroom while another bath was filled in the sitting room, where they moved to once it was ready. As they lowered themselves into the hot water, Jessimyn realized just how sore she was. When the water once again cooled enough that it was no longer comfortable, they climbed out.

"Ready for more?" He asked, then laughed at her incredulous look. "No, I suppose not." She followed him into the bedroom, where he glanced outside. "Well... it looks like our twenty-four hours is up." Berton went to her, setting his hands gently on her waist. "I guess I have to let you go now," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

She quirked her lips at him. "And you wouldn't have before?" She asked with a smile. Resting her hands on his arms, Jessimyn looked up at him. "There _are _a few things I need to attend to, but... I could come back... tonight, I mean. If you wish it."

"You know that I do," he said softly, running his fingers through her hair.

It was late that night when she returned to his rooms, where they promptly retired to the bedchamber. Both were too tired and sore for much in the way of physical activity, but it was comforting to have his arms around her as they slept. Each night afterward was spent much the same way. As the time for him to leave grew closer, they began spending the night in her rooms. Berton had begun packing up what few belongings he had, and neither of them wanted to have to look at the evidence that he would soon be gone.

When the morning finally dawned on the day when he was set to leave, Jessimyn awoke early. She sat up in her bed, his head pressed against the side of her thigh, and she ran her fingers through his hair. She felt a cold ache in her chest, knowing that he wouldn't be there the following morning. "Oh, Berton," she whispered and felt his arms tighten around her leg in response.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her with a smile, but there was sadness there. Her hand trembled on his head, and he sat up, pulling her to him. "We still have hours before we have to think of it," he said, pushing her down onto the mattress, and indeed, it was hours before she thought of anything other than the feel of his mouth and hands on her body. When they could put it off no longer, Berton rose and left her room to get his things ready. They had argued the night before, but she finally convinced him to let her accompany him to the docks, where the ship would take him away.

Jessimyn ran a brush through her hair, then pulled it back into a braid. She pulled out a dark blouse and was about to grab a pair of trousers when she changed her mind, instead reaching for a matching, dark-colored skirt. A letter she had written the night before was pulled from a drawer and shoved into a pocket, to be placed in Berton's bags when he wasn't looking. When Berton returned, his bags thrown over his shoulders, he set them down to look her over. Putting his arms around her, he drew her close. "On our first night, you came to me as a bride. Now you would see me away as a widow?"

"Berton..."

"It's all right. Fitting, even." He smiled, touching her face. "I just wish there was something I could take with me, since I can't take you. Something of yours, so that when I..." His voice faltered, and he looked away.

Jessimyn thought only a moment before reaching up behind her neck to undo the pendant from around her neck. Lifting up onto her toes, she clasped it around his neck. "It's the only thing I have that's mine," she said, trying to keep her voice even.

Berton looked down at the pendant she had received at her Joining, touching it tenderly with a finger before moving to another chain that lay around his neck. Drawing it off, he held it up. It was his own pendant, similar but not identical. Where hers was long and slender, a silver tube, his was flat and round, the color of copper and about the size of a coin, only thicker. He put it around her neck, and Jessimyn had to look away, so that he wouldn't see the tears in his eyes, so that she wouldn't see his.

"I love you, Jessimyn," he said, pressing his face into her hair.

The ache in her chest only seemed to grow, and she realized she loved him as well. Not in the same way, not in the way he might have wanted her to, but who was to say it couldn't have grown into something more, were they given the chance... if she'd ever _given _them the chance... She loved him the way she had loved Zevran, in Antiva, though she hadn't realized her feelings then, either. It was not the all-consuming love she had felt only once before, but it was still love, and if Berton was brave enough to say it...

"I love you, too," she said. He made a small sound and hugged her close, and they held each other for a long time before finally letting go.

She made him let her carry one of his bags as they made their way to the docks, taking the opportunity to slip the letter into it when he wasn't looking. The docks were teaming with people. Sailors and merchants, dockworkers and fishermen all swarmed around them, but Jessimyn was practically oblivious to the crowds. They stood side by side, her hand in his, until it was finally time to leave.

They said no goodbyes. There were no pretty speeches or declarations made. Berton just kissed her, then walked up the ramp, onto the ship, and out of her life forever. She stood on the docks, watching until the ship was out of sight. The trip back to the keep seemed to take forever, and she felt cold despite the heat in the air. She was only grateful that no one stopped her as she made her way back up to her rooms.

Jessimyn went into her bedroom and shut the door. It was then that she saw another letter, nearly identical to the one she had slipped into Berton's bag. Picking it up, she saw her name written across the front in his handwriting. She held it to her but was unable to open it, unsure she was ready to read the words he had written. Jessimyn placed it atop the other unopened letters sitting on a table near her bed. Someday she would read them, but not yet. Instead, she curled up on her bed, pulling her knees up to her chest, suddenly feeling more alone than she ever had before.


	88. Jessimyn Chapter 88

Life went on, as it had a tendency to do, whether Jessimyn was ready for it or not. She kept to her room the day that Berton left, but after that she forced herself to get up, to get out, to do the only thing she knew to do. Train. Her new boots were ready, and the rest of her armor had been repaired. But as soon as she reached the practice yards, she realized she wasn't in the mood to teach. Maybe it was selfish, but she felt the need to work on herself. For the first couple weeks, she spent hours sparring anyone who was willing to stand against her, but even that did little for her. Her skills were too practiced, too familiar, and it took no effort. No, what she wanted was something different, something to focus on so she wouldn't have to focus on anything else.

A shield replaced her dagger, and then later both were traded for a polearm. That was then put away so she could practice her grappling, though it was difficult to find an adequate teacher for that. Most of the men at the keep were too gentle, afraid of hurting her, as even many of the newest recruits were stronger than she. There were a few, though, men she didn't know well who saw hand-to-hand combat as an excuse to grab her in inappropriate places, though the last person who tried that ended up with his nose broken. The most amusing, however, was when she attempted to use a two-handed sword. Amusing for everyone else, anyway. No matter how long she practiced with it, she would never truly have the arm strength to wield one effectively, and she had a tendency to lose her balance when she tried.

However, whether she was successful with the new weapons and fighting styles or not, her training was successful in the fact that it left her so exhausted by the time she made it to her bedchamber that she wanted to do nothing but fall into her bed. Even reading a letter or two seemed like too great an effort. In fact, she was able to put off even looking at them until winter returned, when she found it harder to find sparring partners. It was the evening of the first snow of the season when she finally decided she'd put it off long enough. She filched two bottles of wine from the kitchens, knowing she would need whatever courage she could muster for the task, and if that courage just happened to come in liquid form, so be it.

Time was wasted stoking the fire in the hearth near her bed. She gathered her favorite blankets, set the wine on the table, found a suitable glass. Jessimyn changed into her long, thick nightgown, brushed her hair, washed her face. When there was nothing else to do, she crawled into bed, sitting cross-legged with her back against the headboard. She drew the blankets up over her lap, with another one wrapped around behind her. She adjusted the wick on her lamp to give off the most light possible, then she poured a glass of wine. The glass was downed and another was poured and consumed before her shaking hand reached for the stack of letters.

Why was she so nervous? The writers of the letters had no way of knowing she was reading them. In fact, most probably figured she had already done so. They hadn't received responses thus far, so it wasn't like they were suddenly going to expect one. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the letters and spread them out in front of her. It was always best to start slow and easy, so she picked out Leliana's letters first, opening the oldest one.

_Jess,_ it began.

_Please know that we are all so sorry for what happened. Everyone is very worried. You just disappeared, and no one knows where you are. If this letter finds you, please let us know that you are well._

_Leliana_

See? That wasn't so bad. It had been written and received in Amaranthine before she and Berton had even returned from Highever. Feeling bolder, and needing only another small amount of wine, she opened Leliana's second letter.

_Jess,_

_We got word that you are back in Amaranthine. We all thank the Maker that you are safe, but please write to us. Alistair is nearly beside himself, and..._

Jessimyn crumpled the letter and tossed it aside, grabbing for her glass. But then she sighed, reaching for the wadded paper to smooth it out again. How would she get through the others, if she couldn't even read this one?

_Alistair is nearly beside himself, and he needs to hear from you that you are well. We all do. We love you and worry about you._

_Leliana_

Jessimyn set Leliana's letters aside, then looked at the others in her lap. There were four letters from Alistair, and the one from Berton. Her hands hovered over them, and then she closed her eyes, mixing them around before she selected one. When he opened her eyes, she saw Alistair's handwriting on the outside and let out a little sigh. Glancing at the dates on all of them, she saw that the one in her hand was the third one received. She took a deep breath and opened the seal. There was no greeting, only the short message written in his familiar scrawl.

_I don't want to believe that it comes to this, that you are out of my life forever. I know things have changed, that you think I have let you down, but I've done my duty, which I would hope you could respect. Even if I was not to consider everything we've shared, everything we once were to each other, you are one of a very few number of people who know me as a man and not just as a king. I still need you, even just as a friend if nothing else. I know that, if you would just come to Denerim, if I could just see your face, we could figure everything out. Together._

_~A_

His words startled her. The letter was not anything she would have expected, and she stared at it for a moment, the words growing blurry as her eyes lost focus. Reaching for her wine, she realized the glass was empty. In fact, the first bottle was empty, and she took a moment to open the second. More wine had to be consumed before she would even look at the other letters lying before her. She picked up the first from Alistair, reading them in order this time.

The first began... _I had hoped that you would have written me after receiving the letter I sent with Kyran. That you have not makes me assume that you are of a mind with Zevran. I would explain my actions, though I'm sure you know I don't need to, but I won't do it in a letter. I would ask that you return to Denerim as soon as you are able._

_~A_

She had forgotten all about the letter Kyran was supposed to give her, the same time he gave her Duncan's sword. At the time she had been uninterested in reading anything from Alistair, but now she wondered what it had said. Did it really even matter, though? She could only imagine that it had something to do with Highever. She tried not to read too much into the tone of the letter, however. It had been written over two years ago, after all. She was tired of being angry, and she knew that Jenya had probably been right in her assessment, that she had only stayed angry with Alistair because she needed _someone _to be angry with. Jessimyn pushed it from her mind, opening the second letter.

_I will take your lack of response to mean that you do not wish an explanation from me. I still request that you return to Denerim. There are some rumors going about that would be easily dispelled if you returned to the public eye. Again, I will not put the details in a letter, but know that these rumors do a disservice not only to you, but they could possibly hurt Jenya and your niece and nephew as well. I hope to see you within the month._

_~A_

Jessimyn sighed. The rumors had to be the things she'd heard from Elda, about Wulff's belief that she had somehow aided Fergus in Lyrina's death. A frown crossed her face. It was hardly fair for Alistair to try to use Bryce and Lyla to get her back to Denerim. There was a part of her that wanted to stop, that wanted to just toss all the letters into the fire and be done with them, but the wine helped her keep her resolve. She set the letter aside, reread the third letter, then opened the fourth.

_As there have been no responses to any of my previous letters, this will be my last, unless I hear from you, hopefully in person. In truth, I would come to you, to Amaranthine, were I free to travel, but I am not. My duties keep me here, and Ellynedra is still too young for even a short journey. Please, Jess. I need to know that you are well. I would like to know that you don't hate me. There are so many things I need to tell you, things I can't put in a letter._

_~A_

With a sigh, Jessimyn slumped sideways, pushing the letters away from her. The speed with which she had drank the wine made her head spin, but she didn't care. At least, she didn't care until the dizziness started affecting her stomach. She got to her feet and stumbled to the window, throwing it open. The snow was still falling, and the wind blew it into her room, stinging her face, but she welcomed it. When her stomach was settled, she padded over to her desk and drew out a small slip of paper, a pen, and her ink. True, even the last letter had been written more than a year before, but she felt like she owed him some sort of response. Or maybe it was just the wine that made her feel that way. Still, if she wrote and sent it now, there would be no time to sober up and change her mind. She stared at the paper for a long time before dipping her pen in the ink. Like his letters, she added no greeting.

_I am well. I do not hate you._

Perhaps there was more that needed to be said, but like Alistair, she didn't wish to put it in a letter. She began rolling it up, but stopped to add one more line.

_I am staying in Amaranthine._

No matter his wishes, she would not go to Denerim. Too much time had passed. What could they really have to say to each other that wouldn't just bring back more pain? She'd had enough pain in the past few years to last anyone a lifetime, and she wished for no more. Jessimyn pulled a thick robe around her body and slipped into a soft pair of boots. The halls were mostly empty as she strode to the upper level of the keep, where the birds were kept. The ends of her letter were sealed, dipped in the appropriate color wax to indicate the message was to be given directly to the king. She found the birds that would fly to Denerim and slid the rolled paper into the tube the birds wore and set it out into the night.

There. It was done.

When she got back to her room, she collected all the letters, save the one that had yet to be opened, and she placed them back into her drawer. There was a moment when Jessimyn almost placed them in the hearth, but she wanted the decision to destroy them to be made with a clear head. Climbing back into her bed, Jessimyn picked up Berton's letter and held it up. She reached up to touch the copper pendant around her neck and felt tears come to her eyes. What had become of him, she wondered. Nearly six months had passed since the day he left her at the docks. Was it madness, to hope that he was still alive?

Her fingers traced the letters that spelled out her name. Berton's letter was much thicker than any of the others, but then, he hadn't needed to have it sent to her, hadn't had to worry about anyone else seeing it, so he could write whatever he wanted. She thought then about the letter she had written to him and wondered when he had read it. Running a finger over the wax seal, she found herself hesitating. Was she even ready to read what he had written? Jessimyn screwed her eyes shut and popped the seal.

_Jessimyn,_

_When I lost my Penny, I didn't think I could ever love anyone like that again. It was part of what made becoming a Grey Warden easier to handle, knowing I could dedicate my life to the cause because I would never find anyone like her again. But then I found you, and you made me feel things I hadn't felt in over twenty years. I know I could have made it easier for us. Maybe we would have had years together instead of just weeks, but I can't change what I did anymore than I can change who I am. I am coarse, brash, lewd, overconfident to a fault... Have I missed anything? But if I was ever to win your affection, it had to be as me, not as some husk of a man who was trying to be what he thought you wanted._

_One of the things I admire most about you is that you are the same in many ways. You don't hide who you are. You are strong, brave, just, and you take your duty seriously. My own duty to the Grey Wardens has been the biggest part of my life, but I'll admit it has frightened me a little lately, to know that I would give it all up, give up being a Grey Warden and all that goes along with it, if it meant I could have another ten or twenty years of waking up with you in my arms. But I can't, so I go to my duty knowing that at least I held you when I could._

_It kills me, to know that you can't see just how beautiful you are. You are absolutely extraordinary. Just as you don't hide what's on the inside, I would ask that you stop trying to hide what's on the outside. But I could tell you how lovely you are a thousand times, and it wouldn't matter as much as when you're finally able to turn that mirror around (which I'm sure you thought I didn't notice), look at yourself, and see yourself as beautiful. _

_I do have one request, though. A last request, if you will. Listen to your heart. Love and duty need not exclude each other. How much heartache could you have saved yourself, had you followed your heart years ago? How much heartache might you be able to save yourself in the future. I love you. Even more than my wish that I still had years to spend with you, I wish for you to be happy. I know I can't hope for you to love me back, could never hope to hear you say those words to me, but I can hope that you'll find someone to say them to._

_I go now to my duty, to fulfill the last task in a Grey Warden's life, knowing that I have lived the best life I could, knowing that I managed to find happiness again, even if it was at the end. I hope you find your own happiness sooner than that. I hope that, when your own time comes, you can look back on your life and know that you made the best decisions you could, that you did what was right and just, not only for others but also for yourself._

_I love you, Jessimyn. More than you may ever truly know._

_Berton_

The words blurred in front of her as her eyes filled with tears. She'd turned into quite the emotional, weepy woman lately, she thought. The letter was added to the drawer holding the others and extinguished her lamp. For some reason, it was easier to cry in the dark, and she eventually drifted off into sleep.

That winter was especially hard for Jessimyn. It was almost like reading the letters had set her back, leaving her to deal with her emotions concerning not only Berton, but Alistair as well. She had been so successful at pushing those feelings away, but she couldn't do it any longer. As the snow piled up around the estate, Jessimyn felt like she'd never been in a darker place, but as the snows melted, as the songbirds returned and the trees started budding, she felt something lifting. She had mourned for too many people, for too long. It was time to lift her head up and move on. Perhaps that was easier said than done, but she would do her best.

As the days grew warmer, letters started arriving detailing the number of recruits each of the Grey Wardens who had once been traveling with her had found. It was not yet full into summer when the first groups started arriving. Jessimyn had been surprised by how many recruits each pair of Wardens brought back with them, but more than that, she was surprised by how many families arrived in Amaranthine. There had been few recruits in the past who had families, few who had wives and children, but the keep suddenly seemed overrun. Once everyone had returned, and the Joining was held, there were a few who were sent home as widows, but there were many who stayed. The recruiting was so successful, in fact, that even more groups of Wardens went out to repeat the process, with the goal of returning the following summer with even more new recruits. Herich was one of those who left, leaving Jessimyn in charge of the estate. It pleased Jessimyn, to know that the numbers of Grey Wardens in Ferelden were swelling, but really, it was the children who brought her out of the hole she had been living in, the children who seemed to give her life new meaning. She was happy to find out that her face did not, indeed, scare them away.

There were babies and older children, those on the verge of adulthood themselves, who had come to Amaranthine, but the majority were younger, anywhere from three or four years of age up to twelve or thirteen. They seemed to gather in packs, running about outside, congregating about the practice yards. As time passed, and the children grew bolder, they began begging for a chance to train as their fathers did, asked to be allowed into the yards. At first their wishes were dismissed, but as they grew more insistent, Jessimyn worked with some of the armorers to come up with padded armor for the children to wear. They basically amounted to suits of pillowed padding, covering the children from neck to ankle. The weapons they were allowed to use were similar, long sticks covered in padding so thick they resembled clubs more than swords, but the children were ecstatic at the chance to prove they could follow in their parents' footsteps.

Training sessions were set up, to fit around those planned for the newest Wardens, and Jessimyn found great joy showing the children, the "Junior Wardens" they were called, how to hold a sword, how to use a shield, how to block and parry. It made her miss her niece and nephew a little less. It gave her hope for the future, kept her from dwelling on the sadnesses she had experienced in the past. There was one small group of boys, all about ten years of age, who seemed to adore her. They did their best to impress her whenever she was around, all hoping that she would be be so pleased with their efforts that she would bestow upon them a kiss on the cheek. And as the months passed, she once again found purpose in her life.

It was not just the children who became fascinated with her, however. Some of the wives also sought her out. One in particular was a woman named Maura. She had been a seamstress and dressmaker before moving with her husband to Amaranthine. It had taken a few months for her to approach Jessimyn, but she had wanted to offer her services, said that she would be happier if she could be of use to the keep in any way possible. Despite her initial hesitation, Jessimyn had invited her up to her rooms one evening after dinner.

"I'm so glad you decided to meet with me, my lady," Maura said, beaming at her as she entered the rooms. Maura was only a few years older than Jessimyn, with dark blonde hair that she kept swept back into a tight bun. She was a large woman who carried herself with confidence and always managed to look lovely regardless of the setting.

"Please," Jessimyn said. "Call me Jess."

"And I'm Maura," she said with a smile. "I hope you won't think me too forward, but to be honest... I'm a little bored here in Amaranthine. I'm sure you don't know me from the next woman walking down the hall, but I was fairly well-known in Oswin. Made dresses for all the fine ladies, I did. I was hoping... maybe I could be of service to you."

Jessimyn gave her a smile. "I'm not much of one for dresses, Maura," she admitted.

Maura nodded quickly. "I can see that, yes. But..." She frowned. "Forgive me, but I am not a... subtle woman. I can see the use in the trousers that you wear, but... they do not flatter you as they could. Allow me to make something for you. I'd ask only the cost of materials, and a little for my time. I had a thriving business in Oswin, see, and I'd like to rebuild it here. The other women will see you wearing the clothes I made, and they'll come to me, too." She chuckled. "I support my Rian, I do. That's my husband, he is. I'm proud of what he's become, I truly am, but I can't just sit idle. Let me make something for you."

Jessimyn reluctantly agreed, and a time was set up for Maura to return to take her measurements, and then she returned a few weeks later with a few pieces of clothing for her to try on. There were a couple simple blouses and trousers in slightly different styles for her to examine.

"These are just the mock-ups, mind you," Maura told her as Jessimyn went to try them on. "The finished items I'd make for you would be much prettier. I have a good hand at embroidery, and I think your wardrobe could use a little... decoration."

"Um... Maura?" Jessimyn called from her bedroom, where she was pulling on the clothing. "I'm not sure you got my measurements right." She had pulled on the first pair of trousers and was tying the laces at her waist, but they seemed very tight. Maura burst into her room from where she had been waiting in the sitting room, a frown on her face.

"What? That can't be. Let me see." She took Jessimyn by the arm and twirled her around. "No, that looks right to me."

Jessimyn twisted her body, looking at herself as best she could over her shoulder. "But... they're a little tight, don't you think?"

Maura lauged then, a loud, hearty sound. "Oh, Jess," she said. "Don't you know you've got to accentuate the assets you've got? If I had a tight little bottom like that, I'd be showing it off every chance I got." Jessimyn gaped at her, and Maura grinned. "Did I mention that I had a bit of a reputation in Oswin? The ladies loved my work, but they always said I had a bit of a mouth on me. Said I didn't know how to be proper."

Jessimyn chuckled. "I've had similar things said about me, I'll admit. But still..." She ran her hands down her hips. "Don't you think it clings a little too much?"

Maura grinned. "No offense to you, of course, but I'm the expert here. Now try on one of the blouses, let me see how it fits."

The shirts were just as form-fitting as the pants, much to Jessimyn's dismay. She'd always worn very loose clothing before, and the things Maura had made for her were quite a change. The first shirt had no buttons on it, and instead had a slit that went halfway down the front with a tie at the top. Once Jessimyn got it on, she frowned. "I'm not sure this is appropriate. The slit is a little low, and... it's too tight."

Maura clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. Accentuate, remember? You've got a tiny little waist, which you should show off. Unfortunately, you weren't quite blessed in the bosom area, but there's no shame in that. The tightness of the blouse, along with the slit down the front, allows you to show off what you _do _have."

Jessimyn frowned, examining the clothing. They were all very comfortable, she had to admit that. The cut of the clothing was such that it fit her like a second skin, but she wasn't sure that was what she wanted. But Maura was already talking about the various colors and types of material she would use for her new wardrobe, the different types of embroidery she would use, and Jessimyn had to smile. The light in the woman's eyes was one she recognized, the light of someone who had found something they could focus on with all their concentration.

So she let Maura make her whatever clothing she wished to make her. Every month or so, she came to her rooms with some new idea or another. Occasionally Jessimyn would turn her down, when the woman's ideas were a little to outrageous, but usually she just let her do what she would. Really, she enjoyed the woman's company more than the clothing she made for her, which were sometimes more revealing than she was comfortable wearing.

Summer turned to fall, then winter again, and every time someone arrived at the estate, Jessimyn would go to see who it was, always hoping that it would be Zevran returning, but it never was. Each time, she would tell herself that she needed to stop getting her hopes up, but she kept wishing for him to come back. She loved the children, and Maura had become a good friend, but they would never compare to Zevran or Kyran, to Leliana or Alistair. But maybe it was time to stop comparing.

Jessimyn was once again in charge of all the finances and correspondences for the estate, which took up most of her time in the winter, when training was difficult. There were often many messages from Denerim, but she never received a response from Alistair. Had she really been expecting one, though? She had given him little to respond to, after all. However, whenever she received a missive from Jakob, who was still in charge of the Wardens in Denerim, he would include the latest gossip. When she read the letter that told her there were rumors that the king was again set to marry, she once again felt that familiar coldness setting in. It was only logical that he would marry again, of course, but she could have hoped he would have told her himself. But did he really owe her that anymore? Perhaps not.

When the seasons turned once again, bringing spring and summer back to the land, once more groups of recruits started arriving, this time even larger than the last. One morning, she went outside for her usual training session with some of the Junior Wardens. When it was hot out, she rarely wore her armor if she was training the children, and Maura had convinced her to wear one of her newest creations. The trousers were even more fitted than normal, tight not only across the hips but fitted through the leg so that she could tuck them into her boots. At least the slit on the blouse was not so low cut that she couldn't leave the laces untied at the top. She was standing at the edge of the yards, watching some of the older children, when she felt a tug at her sleeve.

Jessimyn looked down to see a little girl she didn't recognize, but that wasn't so surprising, with the numbers of people who arrived each day. She smiled down at her. "Hello. Are you new here?"

The little girl nodded. "Uh huh. We gotted here today. My dadders is a Grey Warden, and I'm gonna be one, too!"

Jessimyn chuckled. "Is that so?" It seemed at least half of the children there thought the same, though it was usually the boys. "Well I'm happy to hear that. We need more girls in the Wardens."

The little girl wrinkled up her nose. "I'm not a _girl_," she stated, placing her hands on her hips.

A smile crossed Jessimyn's face. "I see... what's your name?"

"I'm Ned," the little girl said.

"Ned, is it?" Jessimyn asked. "Well, that's certainly not the name of a girl, so perhaps you're right." She glanced around. "Are you out here by yourself? Where are your parents?"

Ned shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. I came out here when my dadders wasn't looking."

"And your mother?" Jessimyn asked.

"I don't have one," she said, sticking out her bottom lip. "She died when I was a baby."

Jessimyn was suddenly angry. Who would be so stupid as to try and recruit a widower with a child? What would become of the girl, if her father didn't survive the Joining? She glanced around, knowing that she would have to turn the man away. Apparently some rules would have to be set up concerning new recruits. They had to be willing to accept the consequences of the Joining, of course, but she would not be responsible for a child losing the only parent she had.

"What's your name?" Ned ask, pulling Jessimyn's attention back to her.

"I'm Jess," she said. "Do you know which other Grey Wardens you and your father came here with?"

Ned gave her a confused look, then shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno." Of course. Well, it shouldn't be too difficult to find out.

"Nedda," called a voice, and Ned let out a little squeal.

"Dadders!" She called and went running to a man who was striding towards them.

Jessimyn watched as he picked her up, tossing her into the air a little, before he caught site of her and made his way to her. "I've told you not to go running off, Nedda," he was saying as he walked over.

Ned wrapped her arms around her father's neck. "Dadders, this is my new friend. Her name is Jess."

"Hello, Jess," he said as he stopped in front of her.

Jessimyn felt as if her heart dropped all the way down into her feet, and it took her a moment to speak, but she finally found her voice. "Hello, Alistair."


	89. Alistair Chapter 89

It was not exactly the way he had planned on seeing her. It's true that Alistair's visit to Amaranthine was meant to be a surprise, that Jessimyn was not, in fact, supposed to know he was there until after his arrival, but he had wanted the actual face to face meeting to be a little less spontaneous. Of course, leave it to Ellynedra to change things for him. She had always been very good at escaping from her nursemaids, but the fact that he had finally found her outside talking to Jessimyn? Well, time would tell if it was an opportune coincidence or not.

After Ellynedra had run to him, Alistair had taken his time to walk over to Jessimyn, his eyes taking her in. True, it had been four years since he'd seen her last, but he hadn't expected quite so many changes. The first thing he noticed was her clothing. She had taken to wearing trousers after the attack in Denerim, but these were different from any she'd worn before. Surrounded by noblewomen in the long, full skirts he'd grown accustomed to, he was very aware of how much of Jessimyn's legs were visible, though he supposed it was not so different from when she'd been in armor all the time. But hey also emphasized just how skinny she'd gotten over the past years. Jessimyn had always been slender, but she appeared much harder than he'd remembered, more angular, like someone who worked too hard. Or maybe it was just that life in the palace had left him a little softer, by comparison.

As he got closer, Alistair noticed the scars along the left side of her jaw. They were the faded pink of marks worn for a long time, but they drew his attention. The shape of them made them look like... teeth marks? Had she been bitten on the face, and by something with a very large mouth? His eyes traveled down her neck to the small expanse of skin visible at her shoulder by the collar of her shirt, which lay open, and there were more scars there. It made him wonder what sorts of horrible things she'd seen and done, since last he'd seen her. He pulled his eyes up to her face and was suddenly glad to have Ellynedra in his arms. She kept him from having to decide if he should attempt to hug her, or kiss her hand, or... he didn't even know.

Ellynedra clung tightly to his neck. "Dadders," she said. "This is my new friend. Her name is Jess."

"Hello, Jess," he said, proud that he managed to keep his voice even.

He couldn't help but notice the way she tensed, the way her hands gripped the railing she was leaning against. "Hello, Alistair," she responded. "What are you doing here?"

The corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. "A few reasons, really. The Joining, for one. I'd heard about the one held last year, with all the recruits that had been found, and I wished I could have attended. Nedda here is fascinated with all things related to the Grey Wardens, so when I heard there would be another large Joining this summer, we decided to come out for it."

"We had no word that you'd be coming," she said. "We... nothing has been arranged for such a visit. I should go see that rooms are made up, that..." She took a step towards the keep, but Alistair moved in front of her.

"Yes," he said. "There was quite a commotion when I arrived, for which I apologize, but I'm certain our accommodations are being seen to." Ellynedra squirmed in his arms, and he set her down, where she promptly jumped up onto the railing to watch what was going on in the yards. "I would have sent word we were coming, but honestly..." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he didn't seem to do in front of anyone but her. "I was afraid you wouldn't be here, afraid you would have... left, had you known I was coming."

She turned away at that, and he took the opportunity to admire the lines of her body. No matter what had happened between them, he still found her attractive. "I would not..." she said and shook her head. "My duties are here. A Joining of this size is no small matter to put together, and it is up to me to see to it."

"I also came to personally invite all of the Grey Wardens to the festivities this winter," he added, and she glanced sideways at him, eyebrows raised. "It's been ten years since the end of the Blight, as I'm sure you're aware. There is to be a week-long celebration, with the usual events. A feast and ball, tourneys, all sorts of entertainments. You'll have to be there, of course, but I wanted to make sure that all of the Grey Wardens know that they are invited, as guests of honor." He gave her what he'd always thought of as his most charming smile. The celebration was exactly the sort of thing Jessimyn hated.

"Maker," she mumbled. "You know that's exactly the sort of thing I hate."

Alistair chuckled. "Yes, I know. But surely you see the necessity of your presence at such an event. We can't properly celebrate the ending of the Blight without the Hero of Ferelden in attendence." She grunted, and he took that for acceptance. "But also, Jess, I..." He sighed, and she finally turned back around to face him fully. "There are some things I have to tell you, things I want to ask you, things we've needed to discuss but have never had the chance."

"Well..." she said. "Here I am. Go ahead."

Alistair shook his head. "No, I... these things are best discussed in a more private setting. Perhaps you might... come to my rooms this evening, after dinner?"

"Alistair..." she began, already shaking her head.

"Nedda will be there," he added quickly. "It will be private, but not alone, if that makes you more comfortable."

"Where will I be?" Ellynedra piped up, and Alistair smiled down at her.

"Jess is going to come visit us tonight," he said, careful not to look at Jessimyn. Yes, it was a bit cowardly to involve his daughter like that, but it beat standing around and arguing with her about it.

Ellynedra clapped her hands together. "Oh, can we have a picnic? With cookies?"

Alistair laughed lightly. "Maybe so. If..." He looked up at Jessimyn. "Will you come, Jess?"

She quirked her lips. "Am I really being given a choice here?" She sighed. "Yes, fine. After dinner." She then reached down, grabbing Ellynedra around the waist and pulling her back through the railing, which she had been trying to sneak through. "Sorry, Ned," she said. "You're not allowed in there."

Ellynedra pouted at her. "But I want to fight, too. Those other kids get to!"

"The other children have had training and practice," Jessimyn said, and Alistair saw her lips quirk up into a smile. "Perhaps, with your father's permission, you can train a little, too, while you're here. But without it, you're not allowed into the yard."

Alistair groaned to himself as Ellynedra turned her big, brown eyes up at him. "Oh, can I, Dadders? Please, please, please?"

He frowned at Jessimyn, and she gave him an all-too-innocent-looking smile. "I don't know, Nedda. It looks a little... dangerous. I'm not sure..."

"Oh, it's not dangerous," Jessimyn put in, still giving him that smile he was quickly finding to be annoying. "Haven't had a single injury yet, and we've been running the Junior Warden program for nearly a year now."

"_Junior Wardens_," he said. "That's cute." He looked down at Ellynedra. "Still, I don't know... We can discuss it later."

Jessimyn was chuckling softly to herself, but when he looked back to her, she gave him a serious look that he almost believed. "Well," she said. "I'll leave the two of you to get settled." She cocked her head at the yards. "I have to see to training now." She crouched down, putting herself at eye-level with Ellynedra. "It was very nice to meet you, Ned. I'll see you later tonight."

"Okay!" Ellynedra said brightly.

Alistair watched as Jessimyn ducked under the railing and strode into the center of the yard. One thing could be said for the new clothing she wore. The view from behind was rather pleasing. With a shake of his head, Alistair picked his daughter up and went back inside, where he found a rather frantic-looking nursemaid.

"Oh, Your Majesty," she breathed. "We've been looking everywhere for her."

"Yes, seems she got away from you again, Dera" he said, his voice stern. "She made it outside and was trying to get into the practice yards." The woman looked abashed as she reached for Ellynedra, who reluctantly let herself be handed over. "See that she's cleaned up and ready for dinner when it's time." He turned his attention to his daughter. "Be a good girl, Nedda. Do as you're told, listen to Dera, or there will be no discussion about training with the other children."

Ellynedra stuck out her bottom lip, but she nodded. "Okay."

Alistair ruffled her hair before letting her be taken away. He spent the rest of the day exploring the keep. Some of the other Grey Wardens were reluctant to approach him at first, but they got over it as the day wore on, and he was soon surrounded by a large group of men. They all seemed generally positive about the idea of traveling to Denerim in a group for the celebration that winter, and he found himself recounting tales of the Blight with a rapt audience. When he finished, a man named Jandin launched into stories of the adventures he'd been on with Jessimyn, as well as Kyran and Zevran.

"Ah, yes," Alistair said. "I met Berton a time or two, and I knew Kyran well. Are they here, or are they some of the Wardens out recruiting still?"

The silence was sudden, and every man looked elsewhere. It was Jandin who finally spoke up. "Berton returned to the Free Marches about two years ago. It was his time. The nightmares... As for Kyran, he... he didn't make it back. He was killed when we were caving in an entrance to the Deep Roads, near the Frostback Mountains."

The mood had been broken, and though Jandin continued with his stories, Alistair eventually excused himself and went through the corridors and up the stairs, to the rooms he'd been given. There was a large sitting room that led to the bedroom he'd been given, with a room off the side where Ellynedra could stay, and smaller ones for the servants. Dera and his daughter were in the sitting room when he entered, sitting in a chair, looking at one of her books. Ellynedra had been bathed and changed into a bright, yellow dress, her hair in the cute little pigtails he loved so much. He kissed her forehead before going into his rooms to get ready for dinner.

His manservant, Eldryn, had his clothes set out and helped him dress. Alistair gave him a few instructions of things to do while they were gone, and then he took Ellynedra down to the dining hall. It was almost a relief to see the many long tables were set out, where the Grey Wardens and their families came and went as they pleased. There was no formality, no high table where he had to sit and be apart from everyone. It made him feel like just another Grey Warden, instead of the king, and strangely, he welcomed the feeling. He looked around for Jessimyn and saw her at a table, seated next to a pretty blonde woman and surrounded by a large number of children. Ellynedra saw her, too, and wanted to go sit with them, but the table was full, so they sat at another table that seemed to be filled with families. It was all very homey and relaxing.

People filtered out slowly, and finally Jessimyn came over to him. "I have a few things I need to do, and then I'll be up," she said. He nodded, and she left the hall.

"Are we going to have our picnic now?" Ellynedra asked as they made their way back up to their rooms.

Alistair smiled at her. "But we just ate. Surely you can't still be hungry."

Ellynedra gave him a pained look. "But Dadders... we didn't have cookies!"

"Oh... were we supposed to have cookies?"

She stuck out her bottom lip. "Yes! You said that Jess lady was going to come and have a picnic, and we could have cookies."

Alistair laughed and picked her up. "I suppose I did. Fine, cookies it is."

Ellynedra giggled and hugged him around the neck. When they got back to the room, the picnic was already set up. It was something they had started the previous winter, having picnics in their room. Eldryn had set up a large blanket in the center of the room, with a little basket in the middle. Ellynedra's little tea set, which she had insisted on bringing with her, sat next to the basket. Alistair kicked off his boots, then grabbed a few cushions to sit on. His daughter was poking through the basket when he heard the knock at the door. Eldryn went to open it and showed Jessimyn in before retiring to one of the servants' rooms.

She gave an amused look at the setup. "I see you were serious about the picnic."

Ellynedra went over and took her hand, dragging her over to sit on the blanket. Alistair sat as well, and suddenly it was awkward. Of course, it was not quite so awkward as the fact that he said nothing, leaving Jessimyn to start the conversation, especially considering the question she asked.

"So I hear congratulations are in order," she said. He gave her a confused look, and she gestured vaguely with her hand. "We heard that you are to be getting married again soon?"

Alistair pressed his lips together. How quickly the rumors spread. "Well... possibly. No proposal has been made. I am not betrothed. There seems to be a push for it, though. Lady Alys' family has... do you know her? Her father is the bann of Oswin."

"The name is familiar," she said, her voice even.

Alistair did his best not to sigh. It was certainly not the way he would have wished to tell her, if there was even anything to tell. "She's a... charming girl, but rather young. Her father, though, has been invaluable in helping me to keep peace in the Bannorn, and he has been pushing for the match." He shook his head. "But that... is not what I came to tell you. No, I..."

"Who wants tea?" Ellynedra asked, grabbing her little teapot.

Jessimyn turned her attention to the girl. "I would love some, thank you," she said, holding out her cup as Ellynedra poured for her. As the clear liquid came out of the teapot, Jessimyn raised an eyebrow.

"It's water," he explained.

Ellynedra gave him an exasperated look. "No, it's not. It's tea!"

"Of course, of course," he said, adopting an apologetic tone. "I get the two confused."

Jessimyn smiled a little as Ellynedra poured cups of water for everyone, and then she started pulling items out of the baskets. It looked like Eldryn had done well, procuring a number of different types of cookies. "Not too many," Alistair warned his daughter, who often had difficulty controlling herself around her favorite treat.

"So what, then?" Jessimyn asked after a moment, and he looked up at her. "What is it you wished to discuss?" She clarified.

"Oh, umm... well, Highever, actually." He watched as her face went blank, and he steeled himself for whatever her reaction was going to be. "With... your brother's death, there is once again only one teyrn in Ferelden. So another is going to be made. I've decided it will be Arl Sedric, of West Hill."

"Jenya's father," Jessimyn said, and Alistair nodded.

"Yes," he said. "The teyrnir will move to West Hill, but... Highever will go to his family. His eldest will inherit West Hill, of course, but his next in line will hold Highever."

"That would be... Jenya," Jessimyn said, and he nodded again. "Jenya will have Highever again?"

"It will only be an arling, making her an arlessa, but yes. As her oldest, Bryce will stand to inherit after her."

Jessimyn just looked at him a moment before standing up abruptly and walking away, going over to the window. Ellynedra looked startled, but Alistair just patted her hand before standing to follow after Jessimyn. As he got close, she turned to face him, holding out her hand to keep him from getting too close. "What are you looking for, from me?" She asked. "Am I supposed to fall on my knees and be thankful, that you would return to my family what you took? Why take it in the first place, if only to return in later, unless you did it in order to turn it into some grand gesture?"

Alistair felt a flash of anger. "By law, your brother's treason forfeited his title and lands to the crown. It is no different from what happened with Rendon Howe, the very reason the Grey Wardens have Amaranthine today. You would know this, we could have discussed this, had you not chosen to run away after the Landsmeet, had you deigned to reply to any of the letters I sent. I return the lands to Jenya not as a favor to you, if that's what you're trying to imply. My decision had nothing to do with you. It was made because it seemed the right thing to do, and because it is in the best interests of the crown."

They just looked at each other for a moment, and it was Jessimyn who looked away first. "You know very well why I had to leave," she said. "As for your letters, I could not reply to them because I did not get them. I only returned to Amaranthine two years ago."

"Maybe you didn't get the letters I sent by bird," he conceded. "But you had to get the one I sent with Kyran."

A pained look crossed her face. "No, I... he never gave it to me. He lost it. Or someone took it before he could give it to me."

"Zevran?" He asked, but she made no response. "Is he here? I haven't seen him. Or did he..."

"He left," Jessimyn cut in. "After Kyran... died. He just left. I haven't seen him since." She turned her face to the window. "It seems to be a theme with me," she said, almost to herself. "People leave me."

Alistair reached out tentatively and touched her lightly on the arm. "That's not true, Jess," he said. "Not everyone. _You_ were the one who left _me_, if you'll recall. Twice, actually."

She turned to face him, the hurt on her face enough to make him withdraw his hand. He was about to say more, but Ellynedra was suddenly tugging on his arm. "What are you doing over here? We're having a picnic, 'member?" He smiled down at her, brushing some of the crumbs from her face.

"Looks like you started on the cookies without us," he said, and she giggled.

Ellynedra grabbed Jessimyn's hand as well. "Come on," she said. "We were gonna talk about me playing with the other kids outside, with the swords and the shields."

The two adults allowed the little girl to lead them back to the blankets, back to their picnic. She made a display of pouring them more "tea" and serving them cookies. They both let her chatter fill the silence, let it ease some of the tension between them. Alistair knew it was going to be a difficult conversation for them, but he also realized that the other thing, the thing he needed to ask her, would have to wait. They needed some time to get used to each other again before he could broach the subject. If they managed to get along well enough to ask it, that was.

"So you want to learn to use a sword?" Jessimyn asked Ellynedra, and Alistair grimaced. He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, wasn't sure what he thought of his daughter participating in something that could get her hurt, but he certainly didn't appreciate Jessimyn encouraging her.

"Yes," Ellynedra said, her voice filled with excitement. "And a shield. And wear those puffy clothes those boys were wearing."

Jessimyn smiled at her. "Those puffy clothes are to keep them safe, to keep everyone from getting hurt. The swords are puffy, too, but you can still use them just as you would a real one, which is what we try to teach."

"I want a real one now," she said.

Jessimyn shook her head. "You'd have to start out with the puffy ones."

Ellynedra let out a dramatic sigh. "Okay. Can we go do it now?"

Jessimyn glanced at Alistair, and he frowned at her. "Well, it's really up to your father, you know. It's not me you need to ask."

"I can, can't I, Dadders? Please, please, please?"

Alistair sighed. "I don't know, Nedda."

"Please, Dadders. Please?"

"Yes, please, _Dadders_," Jessimyn added, and he could tell by the look on her face that she was trying to antagonizing him.

Ellynedra jumped up, hopping in place before she jumped onto Jessimyn's back, throwing her arms around her neck. She gave Alistair her best puppy dog eyes, and he sighed. "We'll see."

Ellynedra squealed and squeezed Jessimyn around the neck. "That means yes," she said to Jessimyn.

"Got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't she?" Jessimyn asked, smiling a little.

"Doesn't she know it," he said, returning the smile. But something about seeing the two of them like that, with Ellynedra's arms around Jessimyn's neck, pulled at him in a way he hadn't been expecting, and he looked away. "But it's not a yes for sure, Nedda," he added. "I'll need to think about it. I'm going to want to watch some of the others before I decide if I'll allow you to participate."

Of course, Ellynedra didn't seem to hear that part, and she jumped up, grabbing a pillow to use as a shield, waving her arm around like she was holding a sword. "Look at me!" She cried. "I'm a Grey Warden." She danced about the room, and Alistair laughed as he watched her.

When he turned his attention back to Jessimyn, he saw that she was watching him. "I think fatherhood suits you," she said softly.

He looked at her a while before nodding. "It does, yes. Look, Jess, I..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I know that Bryce and Lyla are innocent in everything that happened." He glanced at Ellynedra, who was still dancing about the room, battling imaginary foes. "I can't imagine how I would feel, if Nedda was punished for something I had done. So I don't want to punish them. Or Jenya, for that matter. I've done what I can, in the past, to make some sort of restitution to the Howe children, though obviously I can't restore Amaranthine to them. Now I want to do what I can for your family. I tell you this not so that you'll _fall on your knees to thank me_, but so that you'll understand. That's all I ask."

Jessimyn let out a soft sigh. "I've been angry with you for a long time, Alistair. I don't want to be angry anymore." She gave him a smile, though it was a touch sad. "Though I'm certainly not pleased about the whole 'being required to go to this celebration' thing."

Alistair grinned at her. "I know. But it wouldn't be right to have it without you. The people expect it."

"I'll go," she said grudgingly. "But just to attend. If you think I'm going to participate in anything extra..."

"Oh, I know better than to ask something like that," he said with a smile.

"Good," she said, quirking her lips at him.

He suddenly couldn't seem to resist anymore and reached out a hand to touch her lightly on the face. "How did you get these?" He asked, tapping lightly on the scars that ran along her jaw.

Jessimyn pulled away from his touch, tilting her head so that his view of that side of her face was obscured. "Oh, you know, the usual. I ran into a hurlock who wasn't too happy to see me." And then she launched into the details of what she'd been doing the past few years. Some of it he'd heard from Jandin, but not all. When she got to the part about the Deep Roads, about Kyran's death, he could hear the pain in her voice and knew it was a wound that was still unhealed. He almost asked about Berton as well, but decided against it. There was nothing she could tell him that Jandin hadn't already, after all.

"I think my stories have bored your daughter," Jessimyn said with a smile, and Alistair turned to see Ellynedra curled up on a chair, the pillow she'd been using as a shield under her head. Jessimyn stood up. "I'll take that as my cue to leave." She hesitated a moment, then added, "Come by the yards tomorrow, if you really want to see the program we've got running with the children."

"I will," he said as he stood up. "Goodnight, Jess."

"Goodnight, Alistair," she replied before leaving.

Once she was gone, he went over to pick Ellynedra up and carry her to her room. She only woke up once he started getting her into her nightgown. "But I'm not tired," she protested, her eyes barely open.

"Of course you're not," he replied as he tucked her into bed. "Love you, Nedda," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Love you more," she answered.


	90. Jessimyn Chapter 90

Jessimyn was in the practice yards with some of the older children when she saw Alistair approaching, his daughter and a woman, probably Ellynedra's nursemaid, in tow. There was always a bit of a crowd when the children were in the yards, though it was mostly comprised of the parents, but with the king in attendance, there were many more people around. She ran the children through their usual drills, then paired them off for spars. The older children needed less supervision, so she was able to let them all practice at once, while she made her way through them, correcting techniques as needed. It wasn't until the session was over that she finally approached Alistair.

Ellynedra was hopping about excitedly, and her nursemaid was trying her best to keep her calm, but with little effect. Jessimyn gave her a smile before turning her attention to Alistair. He was looking out over the yard, his brow furrowed. "It's certainly... impressive, what you've done here. But all those boys are much older than Nedda," he said.

"Yes, we divide the children by ages, and this was an older group. We don't have any who are younger than Ned, but there are five children who are the same age," Jessimyn offered.

Alistair grimaced, glancing at her daughter. "Why must you tell everyone your name is _Ned_?" He asked her, and Ellynedra giggled. He looked back at Jessimyn. "_Ellynedra _was too hard for her to say, but _Ned _is a boy's name."

"Well, she did tell me she was a boy..." Jessimyn said, her tone amused.

"I didn't say I was a boy!" Ellynedra protested.

"You _did_ say you weren't a girl," Jessimyn replied.

Alistair chuckled. "You have to ask her what she _is_, not what she isn't."

Jessimyn raised an eyebrow, and Ellynedra grinned. "I'm not a girl, I'm a _princess_."

"Ah, quite so," Jessimyn said, giving the girl a serious nod.

"Yes," Alistair agreed. "And I'm not sure _princesses_ should be..." He trailed off at the look Jessimyn was giving him.

"Should be what? You're not sure princesses should be... treated any differently from how a prince would be treated? Is that what you were going to say?" Jessimyn scowled at him.

"I don't want her to get hurt," Alistair said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I won't get hurt," Ellynedra exclaimed. "I'll wear puffy clothes."

Alistair sighed. "Nedda, stay here. I want to take a look at these _puffy _clothes and swords."

He ducked under the railing, and Jessimyn took him over to the weapon racks held for the children. She picked up a sword and shield. "Everything is padded," she explained. "The shield fronts and edges, around the swords as well as the tips. They're perfectly safe, see?" She asked as she poked him in the stomach, and he let out a soft oof. "Well, safe to people with training, anyway. I can see your time in the palace has left you a little... soft." He narrowed his eyes a little, and Jessimyn could see she'd struck a nerve with that one. Alistair never was good at taking criticism, only at giving it. She smiled at him. "Go ahead, try them out."

"You always start them out with sword and shield?" He asked, and she nodded. "And how exactly are you supposed to train them effectively with that style? You don't use a shield."

"It's not my preferred fighting style, it's true, but I've been practicing with many different kinds. I know enough to teach it to the children, and it's a good place to start for them," Jessimyn said.

Alistair reached for a practice sword and shield. "The balance is terrible," he complained. "The weight is all wrong in the shield. It shouldn't be the same weight as the sword." He looked at her, no humor in his eyes. "Even my _soft _arms can tell that much."

Jessimyn sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Look, if you don't want to give it a chance, that's up to you. It's your daughter who's going to be disappointed, not me."

"Give it a chance, huh? And how would I do that?" His smile was sudden, and it made Jessimyn suspicious. "I can't possibly know how I'd feel about Nedda doing... all this until I've tried it out myself."

She wrinkled her eyebrows at him. "Shall I go get one of the boys for you to spar, then?" She pretended to ponder it for a moment. "I suppose it would be a fair enough fight."

"So funny you are," he said sarcastically. "No, I was thinking maybe you would do me the honor."

"You want your daughter to watch you get trounced?" Jessimyn asked.

"I have no intention of letting that happen," he replied seriously.

"By all means, then," Jessimyn said, gesturing towards the center of the yard.

As they made their way to the middle, Jessimyn could see the commotion around the edges, as everyone who was nearby made their way over to watch. So they were going to have an audience, it seemed. That was fine, she didn't mind. But as she stood opposite Alistair, both of them with their ridiculous padded swords and shields in hand, neither of them in armor, Jessimyn knew this spar had little to do with him wanting to test anything out. No, this was about unsettled business between the two of them. He'd tried to come to Amaranthine as the hero, the gracious benefactor. Maybe he'd tried to get to her the night before, with his Alistair-smiles, hoping that seeing him with his daughter would soften her. Maybe it had even worked a little, though she didn't want to admit it. She'd told him she didn't want to be angry with him anymore, and that was true, but she wasn't quite ready to be friendly with him, either. So it looked like they would work it out the best way they knew, with violence. Or it was _one_ of the two ways they knew how to do things, anyway, but the other way wasn't about to happen any time soon.

She gave him an exaggerated bow. "Your Majesty," she said formally, and Alistair grunted.

They held their swords up in salute, and then the spar began. She had expected to beat him quickly and soundly, but perhaps he was not as out of practice as she thought. Still, she definitely had the advantage. They had practiced their skills against each other many times, but she had always been using two weapons, so while she could still anticipate his moves, he couldn't do the same to her.

Alistair tried to feint left and go right, but she blocked him easily. She thrust her sword at his middle, but he turned at the last moment, jumping out of the way. Jessimyn let her momentum carry her past him, whirling about to face him, bringing her shield up in front of her just in time to avoid the arcing shot he threw at her upper body. She ducked low, sweeping out with a foot, but that was a move he'd seen before, and he sidestepped her. They traded blows much longer than she would have expected, but it was hot outside, and there was soon sweat beading on Alistair's brow. He thrust his sword at her, but his other hand dropped just a little too much, leaving a gap, and as she blocked his sword, her own found it's way in, jabbing him in the stomach.

He grunted at her, and Jessimyn gave him a triumphant smile. "I think you're dead," she said.

Alistair dropped his shield, grabbing his stomach in a dramatic way. He staggered a little, then fell to the ground, bringing loud cheers from the crowd around them. Jessimyn couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and she placed her foot on his chest as she raised up an arm in victory, making everyone cheered louder. But it was a small sound from behind her that drew her attention, and Jessimyn turned to see Ellynedra ducking through the railing, evading the grasp of her nursemaid, to run towards them.

As she got closer, Jessimyn could see the tears on the little girl's face. "Don't hurt him," she was saying. "Don't hurt him, don't hurt him!"

Alistair sat up, turning just in time to catch his daughter around the waist as she tried to launch herself at Jessimyn. "It's all right, Nedda," he said, laughing a little. "I'm fine."

"You're mean!" She said to Jessimyn as she hugged her father tight.

"Nedda," Alistair said soothingly as he stood up, Ellynedra in his arms. "I'm fine. Jess didn't really hurt me. We were just playing."

She sniffed loudly. "You were? But you falled down."

"_Fell down_, Nedda. And yes, but that was all part of the game." He wiped the tears from her face.

She gave him a confused look, then turned her gaze on Jessimyn. The accusation in her face made Jessimyn smile. "I'm sorry we scared you. We didn't mean to. I would never hurt your father, I promise." She didn't look at Alistair as she spoke, knowing how her words sounded. But she said them for Ellynedra's sake, not his.

"But how come she beated you, Dadders? I thought you were the best Grey Warden ever," she said.

Alistair had the good graces to blush a little. "Did I say that? I think I said I was _one _of the best." He smiled. "Jess here is, too."

"So gracious a concession, Your Majesty," Jessimyn said blandly.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. "Stop it. Just stop it," he said before turning to carry his daughter back to the side of the yard.

Jessimyn sighed and bent to retrieve Alistair's sword and shield, carrying them to the rack. Jandin was waiting for her as she made her way over, a grin on his face. "What do you want?" She asked, a little more stern than she meant, but he didn't seem fazed.

"That was brilliant," he said. "Who are you going to fight next?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "No one."

"Oh, but that was _way_ more entertaining than any normal spars. You know, we probably have at least a week, if not more, before Herich returns with his group of recruits. We should put together a tourney, using only the padded weapons. We could have rounds for the kids as well as the adults." He was grinning as he spoke.

"You're crazy, Jandin," she told him.

He laughed. "I get that a lot. Don't you think it's a good idea? I bet we could get a lot of people who'd want to participate."

Jessimyn held up her hands. "You do what you want. But I think everyone else is going to think you're just as insane as I do."

In that, however, she was wrong. Over the next few days, Jandin seemed to get nearly everyone interested and involved in his mock tourney. He had a large board set up near the practice yards, to keep track of the lists. In fact, Jessimyn had never seen him quite so motivated before, and it was almost amusing to see how excited he was about it, how excited he got everyone else to be. Well, Jandin was nothing if not exuberant.

On the morning of the tourney, Jessimyn made her way to the practice yards, along with nearly everyone else in the keep. Despite Jandin's pleas, she had declined participating herself, but she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to watch everyone else make a fool of themselves. The yards were split into quarters, so there could be multiple matches going on at once. The set up was to have the matches alternate, so there would be a round of adults, then a round of children. She was leaning on the railing, watching and laughing with the others, when Alistair and Ellynedra came up to stand next to her.

They hadn't spoken since their own spar a few days earlier, which was just as well. In truth, she wanted to spend as little time with him as possible. It just seemed safer that way. They nodded politely to each other, and Alistair sat Ellynedra at the top of the railing, holding her around the waist to keep her secure. They said nothing to each other, keeping their attention on the action in front of them. The children were so serious in their matches, fighting for all they had, but the adults were anything but. One man went into his first fight holding two shields instead of a sword. He was beaten rather soundly. Two others decided to fight each other on their knees, while in yet another match, the two combatants agreed to switch the swords to their off hands while holding their shields in their dominant hands. During another fight, the two men fighting agreed to be blindfolded. That match left Jessimyn laughing so hard her sides hurt.

There were fewer children than adults, so their final round came sooner, set between two of the ten-year-olds who were among Jessimyn's biggest admirers. When it ended, the winner danced about excitedly before scanning the crowd. When he saw Jessimyn, his eyes lit up, and he jogged over to her. "Did you see?" He asked. "I won!" And then he tilted his face up to her. Jessimyn chuckled and leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek, bringing cheers from those around her. He beamed at her, then galloped around the yard, waving his sword in the air.

Alistair made a small sound at her side. "Had I known there was going to be a prize for the winner, I might have signed up." Luckily Jessimyn was not facing him, and she pretended not to hear. She wished she hadn't heard what he said, in fact. The man made no sense at all.

It seemed to get hotter as the day wore on. Jessimyn was wearing some of the looser clothing that Maura had made for her, which helped a little, but she rolled up her sleeves, then retied her hair so that it was up and off her neck. She heard Ellynedra say something, and she turned, only to see Alistair staring at the long scar running up her right arm. She quickly folded her arms over her chest, hiding it from view. At least he hadn't tried to touch it, as he'd done with her face, like she was some sort of grotesque to be poked at. Maker forbid he ever saw her legs. He'd probably point and laugh.

Ellynedra was growing bored, so Alistair took her on a walk. Jessimyn felt relieved when he left, but it was short-lived, as they came back right as the final match was beginning. It was Jandin against a man named Jerem. They had opened the whole yard up, and the two men were both trying to get people to cheer for them. The fight itself ended much more quickly than Jessimyn would have expected, with Jandin the winner. He held his play sword above his head in both hands, pumping it up and down as he jogged a lap around the yard, coming to a stop right in front of Jessimyn.

He grinned at her. "Do I get a kiss, too?" He inquired, turning his head to offer her his cheek.

There was laughter from those around them, and Jessimyn snorted at him. "No way, Jandin."

"Yeah, that's gross," Ellynedra agreed from her side.

"Sorry," Jessimyn said with a smile. "Her Highness has spoken. You're out of luck."

Jandin let out a dramtic sigh, but then he lifted his hands back up and continued his victory lap of the practice yards. Everyone slowly began drifting away, now that the excitement was over. Jessimyn realized she was starving and went to go find something to eat.

It was later that evening, shortly after sunset, when she heard a knock on her door. She'd been curled up in a chair near the open window, going over some reports. Setting them down with a sigh, she went over to answer it, only to see Alistair standing outside.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jessimyn said.

Alistair nodded. "Then... can you come out? I'd like to talk with you."

"That hasn't worked so well for us thus far," she said.

He quirked his lips at her. "Humor me?"

She let out a sigh and went to put on her boots. At first he said nothing, and she walked at his side as he made his way outside. The continued in silence, walking around the lower landing of the keep. Finally she just stopped walking. He took a few more steps before realizing and turning around.

"Why are you here?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"I... told you why. The Joining, and the..."

Jessimyn shook her head. "Perhaps I should rephrase. What do you want from me?"

Alistair looked startled. "I... don't want anything. I just..."

"Are you just _trying_ to torment me, then?" She asked, cutting him off.

That seemed to make him smile a little, for some reason, and he took a step closer to her. "How do I torment you, exactly."

"Like that," she said, taking a step back. "Don't smile at me like that. Don't act like we're still friends."

"Are we not?" He asked, his tone careful.

"My brother killed your wife. My brother killed Ned's mother. Does she have any idea of that? Does she know who I am?" She asked, trying to keep the tension she felt from showing in her voice.

"You're not Fergus, Jess," he said, again trying to move closer to her.

"Your daughter might disagree, if she knew everything," Jessimyn said, taking another step back, which put her up against the railing. "What do you want from me?" She asked again.

Alistair raked his fingers through his hair. "I... want to still be friends, Jess. Or to be friends again."

She looked away. "I'm sure His Majesty has plenty of friends."

"_His Majesty _does, yes. But _I _don't." He reached out a hand to her, but she shied away.

"Don't touch me, Alistair. If you touch me, I'm going to come undone," she said.

He let his hand fall back to his side. "Eamon is sick," he said after a moment. "He's been ill for a while. Isolde wants to take him back to Redcliffe, maybe even to Orlais. I still need him, but I can't keep him in Denerim. You ask me what I want from you? I came here to ask you to take his place. I want you to be an adviser to me, as he was."

That made her laugh. She couldn't help it. "What? Are you insane? You... don't even like me."

Alistair frowned at her. "I don't need you to tell me how I feel towards you, Jess. But you're the only one who could do it, the only person I'd trust to do it. I... need someone who knows me, the real me, not just the king-me."

"Let Leliana do it," Jessimyn offered.

He gave her a smile. "Leliana is full of sound advice, it's true, but she's an Orlesian, and a bard. She does her advising in private. I need someone who can be a little more public."

"And you think the sister of your wife's killer is your best bet?" She asked incredulously.

"She's the only person I want," he replied, then quickly added. "For that position." When she opened her mouth to reply, he continued on. "Don't answer now. Think it over. In fact, I don't want an answer until after you come to Denerim this winter. Will you do that for me? Will you think about it?"

She looked at him for a long while, then looked away. "I'll agree to think about it... if you agree to let Ned train with me while you're here."

"Why does that matter so much to you?" He asked.

"She's already lost her mother," Jessimyn answered. "In about twenty years, she's going to lose her father. I know what it's like to be alone. The sooner she learns to take care of herself, the better."

Alistair grimaced. "Maker, Jess. That's very dark."

"It's very true to life. So do we have a deal, then?"

He let out a sigh. "Fine, I'll let her practice with you if you agree to _seriously consider _the position I'm offering to you."

Jessimyn gave him a nod. "Very well, then. Goodnight, Alistair." She turned and headed back to her room without waiting for a reply.


	91. Jessimyn Chapter 91

Once everyone had arrived, when all the Wardens had finally returned with their recruits, plans for the Joining were put into place. Normally they would have waited a few weeks to begin, but Jessimyn felt a need to get it over with. She wanted Alistair to be gone, _needed_ him to be gone so that she could try to regain some sort of normalcy in her life. But how long would that last, really? She'd agreed to go to Denerim for the celebration commemorating the tenth year since the Blight's end, yet Alistair wanted her to stay indefinitely. It seemed a ridiculous notion. How could she advise him, spend time in close proximity to him every day, when she could barely be around him now? And how would she deal with his wedding, if his betrothal to this Lady Alys were to become official? Just because he hadn't proposed yet, it didn't mean he wasn't intending to. No, the best thing for her would be to return to Amaranthine as quickly as possible once the festivities were over.

The thing that made her even think about it, though, was Alistair's reasoning for wanting her. She could understand his desire to want to be around people who knew him. She often felt a similar desire, especially with Zevran being gone. Of course, was peace between herself and the king even possible? Could past hurts really be healed? And how would the nobles even react to such an appointment? It was almost funny, but it seemed that the fact that he was even considering her showed that he needed someone aiding him, but how could she advise him against herself?

The real sticky part, though, was Ellynedra. She came every day to practice with the youngest group of Junior Wardens, and Jessimyn quickly grew fond of her. The little girl was spirited, and though Jessimyn had few memories from when she was four years old, Ellynedra reminded her of herself, from what memories she _did _have of her childhood. Jessimyn could clearly remember being seven or eight, watching Fergus training with awe, wanting to take part. Would she even be alive today, had he not interceded on her behalf to get her parents to allow it? But how would Ellynedra feel about having Jessimyn in her life when she grew older, when she found out the truth about her mother's death? And perhaps more importantly, how would her grandfather react to Jessimyn's appointment as adviser to the king? That question, at least, was easy to answer. Wulff would be furious.

Luckily, setting up the Joining helped distract her from some of those thoughts. They were to hold it in the grand hall of the estate, but not every one of the recruits was to be present all at once. That seemed like it would be too overwhelming, especially to those at the end of the line. No, instead they would bring them in five at a time to go through the ritual. It would take longer, but it seemed the best method to make it easiest to deal with for everyone. When the time came for it to begin, she stood near the back of the crowd of Wardens who had come to watch and participate. Alistair had already been there, when she arrived, but he went to stand at her side. She wished he wouldn't, wished he didn't feel the need to be so close to her whenever they were in the same room, but the ceremony was beginning, and there was nothing she could do about it.

It seemed to go on for hours. She found herself clutching at Berton's pendant, holding her breath every time a recruit took the cup to their lips to drink. She made herself look at every man who fell to the floor never to rise again. Death was part of being a Grey Warden, it was true, but it never seemed quite fair that many would die as a Warden without ever getting to live as one. She caught Alistair looking at her at one point, glancing at the pendant in her hand with curiosity, but she just tucked it under her shirt, out of view. She didn't want to let herself get distracted by him, not now.

When the Joining ended, they had twenty-seven new Grey Wardens, bringing the total number in Ferelden above one hundred. It was a reason to celebrate... except for the families who would be going home without a father, without a husband, without a brother. Not all of those who didn't make it through the Joining had people waiting for them, but enough of them did, and they would all have to be told. As had happened the last time, it was up to Jessimyn to do the informing. Herich saw to having pyres built for those who had fallen, and Jessimyn left him to it, not sure which of them had the worse task.

Jessimyn was speaking quietly to the wife of a man named Freyd who had been one of the first to fall. She was doing her best to console the crying woman when Alistair came up behind her. The woman looked up at him, her red eyes going wide. "Y.. Your Majesty," she managed between sobs. Jessimyn gave him an annoyed look, but he ignored her.

"I am sorry for your loss, my lady," he said soothingly. "Your husband was very brave. His sacrifice will not be forgotten, by the Grey Wardens or by Ferelden."

A short while later, once the woman was gone, Jessimyn looked at Alistair. "You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.

"I think I did," he replied. "And you shouldn't have to do this alone. I know how hard it can be, to tell a woman she's a widow because her husband died in your service. If my voice added to yours can give them extra comfort, then I am willing to give it."

She regarded him in silence for a moment before nodding. "Very well," she said. Together they went to speak to all of the other families, did their best to give meaning to the deaths of their loved ones. Once they had spoken to the last, Jessimyn let out a soft, weary sigh. She felt drained, overwhelmed with all the death that always seemed to surround her. She may not have cried with all those who had lost someone that day, but she mourned with all of them. She glanced at Alistair. "Thank you," she said.

"There's no reason to thank me," he said. "I didn't do it for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an overwhelming urge to go hug my daughter."

Jessimyn let a small smile touch her lips as she watched him walk away. His response actually made her respect him a little more. It also made her a little envious, too, that she didn't have someone to go to, as he did. She reached up to touch the pendant around her neck with a finger, suddenly feeling Berton's loss more keenly than she had in a long time.

The king's departure from Amaranthine was as unceremonious as his arrival had been. They left with no pomp or formality, which seemed to suit everyone just fine. After all, they would all be traveling to Denerim themselves, in a few months. Still, Jessimyn felt a little relieved to see his traveling party disappear over the horizon, though she knew she was going to miss Ellynedra. However, it was only a week after they'd gone when Maura came bursting into her sitting room one evening.

Jessimyn stood up, a flash of fear going through her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"The celebration... thing. This winter," she gasped out, nearly out of breath. "When will we have to leave for Denerim? I mean, there's traveling time, but we won't want to travel in the snow."

Jessimyn gave her a thoroughly confused look. "I don't know. Three months from now? We'll probably leave one and a half or two months before it's to take place, to give plenty of time for the slow travel with such a large group and to account for any weather. Why? What's wrong?"

Maura let out a loud, dramatic sigh, throwing herself into a chair. "Oh, Maker. Only three months to get ready!"

Jessimyn chuckled softly. "That's why you come bursting into my room without even a knock? To fret about having only three months to get your things packed?"

"Don't be daft," Maura said, making Jessimyn smile. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's you. You have absolutely _no _suitable dresses. Do you even _have _any dresses? Well, that's of no matter, since you couldn't wear any of them anyway. They'd probably all be hideous and plain. No, you will need a completely new wardrobe. The festival is to take place over how many days?"

The smile had slowly slid from her face as Maura spoke. Of course this was what her visit was about. She should have known. She was almost frightened, though, to see what sorts of things Maura might come up with her, considering what she'd already done. "A week," she said with a sigh.

Maura was tapping her lips in thought. "We'll have to plan for indoor and outdoor activities. I know there's to be a tourney, so you'll need cloaks to match your dresses. There's also to be a ball, so that will require something really special."

Jessimyn crossed her arms over her chest. "You are aware I'm not some sort of doll for you to dress up, aren't you?"

"Don't be silly," Maura said with a grin. "Of course you are. If all the ladies in Ferelden see their Hero dressed in my wares, just imagine the orders I could get."

Jessimyn laughed at that. "Ever the businesswoman you are," she said.

Maura stood and pulled out a small footstool. "Here, stand up here. I need to take some measurements."

"You can't possibly need any more measurements than all of the ones you've already taken a hundred times before," Jessimyn protested.

"But those were for trousers and blouses. Dresses are entirely different. Come on now, be quick about it. We have no time to waste." Maura poked a finger at her, urging her up onto the stool.

Jessimyn allowed herself to be prodded up onto the stool, where Maura seemed to take every measurement she'd ever taken before, along with a dozen new ones that didn't seem to make any sense. Why did she need to know the distance from the top of one shoulder to her waist on the other side of the body? Or from the top of one arm to the bottom of the other? Or the distance between her shoulder blades? After she was done, she stood back, once again tapping her lips. Then she smiled, a wide grin that grew to envelope her entire face. "Oh, I have some wonderful ideas for you. You'll be the loveliest woman there. Well, besides me, of course."

"Why am I suspicious?" Jessimyn asked.

"Because you have no vision," Maura responded with a smile. "Don't argue with me, you know it's true. At least when it comes to fashion." She leaned back, narrowing her eyes. "Now what about jewelry. I take it you're a bit attached to the necklace and bracelet you always seem to wear, but they will never do."

Jessimyn shook her head. "That's not an argument you're going to win, Maura."

Maura sighed at her. "Look, at the least, you have to pick just one of them. They're not even the same kinds of metals! I can't work with that. So pick one."

"Fine," said Jessimyn. She knew she didn't have to, but it was easier just to agree, or it would be an argument they would have for the next three months. "I won't wear the bracelet, but the necklace stays."

Maura narrowed her eyes, deep in thought, and then she nodded. "Yes, I suppose that will do. The copper color... it will go nicely with a dark blue. You do look stunning in blues."

"I'll leave it up to you, then," Jessimyn said, wondering just how much she was going to regret saying those words.

Within a week, Maura came back with some simple mock ups for her to try on. She made a number of markings on them before taking them back. Then, she showed her the accessories she'd come up with. She'd had tiny, copper disks, polished to a high shine, attached to the ends of hair pins. She said they would blend in well enough with Jessimyn's hair that they wouldn't really be noticed except when they caught the light. Finally, she made her stand up on a stool while she draped swatches of all different types of materials over her. Jessimyn was pleased to see they were all mostly velvets and brocades, materials thick enough to be warm in the winter months. She'd had a fear Maura was going to try to dress her in clinging silks.

But after those first few weeks, she saw nothing of Maura, who seemed to stay busy with her sewing, not only for Jessimyn, but for herself and a number of the other women who would be going to Denerim. As the time grew closer for them to leave, she realized she still hadn't seen any finished products and went to hunt Maura down. She'd commandeered one of the smaller meeting rooms in the keep for her work, and when Jessimyn got there, Maura was busy at work.

"What is it?" Maura demanded, looking up from a dress she was holding in her hands. "I have no time. Oh, you probably want your things..." She stood up, then began rummaging around, finally pulling out ten parcels, all neatly wrapped in paper and tied. "These are yours." Jessimyn went to one and began to untie it, but Maura slapped her hand. "Don't open them! I have them packed just so, so that they won't wrinkle. Take them up to your room and pack them immediately. And they have to go in a trunk! If you try to go cramming them into a bag of some sort, you're going to ruin them. When we get to Denerim, I'll unpack them for you. Now go, I'm very busy."

Jessimyn smiled, shaking her head at the pile of things in front of her. "I can't carry all of these," she said.

Maura scoffed at her. "Then make extra trips! I'm up to my ears in orders and alterations. I have no time to make deliveries, too."

It ended up taking her three trips back and forth to get everything to her room, and then Jessimyn had to hunt down a trunk. She had just gotten everything packed when there was a knock at her door. She opened it to see one of the children she'd been training, standing there. "What is it, Robert?" She asked.

"It's Maura. She said she needs you." He grinned at her, then went running off.

With a groan, Jessimyn went back to Maura's shop. "Did you forget something?" She asked the woman once she got there.

"Yes," she said, pointing to a large stack of boxes. "Your shoes. Can't forget those."

"Maker," Jessimyn exclaimed. There were as many boxes as there had been parcels. "All of those? One pair would suffice. Two, maybe, since I'd probably want warmer shoes for outside."

Maura snorted at her. "Nonsense. Now take those up to your room as well. Pack them in your trunk as well, but on the bottom, underneath the dresses. Remember, I'm to unpack everything for you, so I'll know if you do it wrong!"

Jessimyn just shook her head and began the trips back and forth to get everything up to her room. She was once again just finishing with the packing when there was another knock on her door. "Oh, for the love of the Maker," she muttered under her breath before opening the door to see Robert again. He grinned at her, holding out a large box.

"From Maura. She said..." He screwed up his face as if trying to remember. "Said to put it on top of your shoes, but under your dress. But... you're not wearing a dress. You're wearing pants..." He looked confused, but Jessimyn just took the box from his hands.

"Thank you, Robert," she said and closed the door. She pried the lid off of the box to see a number of tiny packages inside, all wrapped up. She picked one up and could tell by its feel that it held some sort of jewelry. With a grimace, she went over to the trunk, pulled out the parcels of the dresses, and repacked it for what she swore would be the last time.

Very few people stayed in Amaranthine, when it was finally time to leave. Herich was one, insisting someone needed to stay behind to keep things running. Most of the others were those whose families included small children. The trip took longer than normal, as they traveled slowly, but they arrived in Denerim a few weeks before the festivities were to begin. Alistair offered rooms in the palace, which Jessimyn grudgingly accepted. Had her party consisted of single Wardens, she would have forced them all to stay at the compound, but since there were families, she realized cots in a barracks weren't going to cut it.

It was a few days after they arrived before Maura came to unpack her things. Jessimyn sat on the edge of the bed as she pulled each thing from the chest, holding each up for her to see. The first was apparently the dress she was to wear during the tourney. It was a white brocade with silver threads worked through the fabric. She could tell it would be tight through the bodice, but the neck was high cut, and the sleeves were long and full. The cloth was fine enough that little else was needed in embellishment, other than copper-colored bands around the ends of the sleeves and the bottom of the skirt. Maura showed her a matching cloak, which was made of the copper-colored fabric, lined in white for contrast. It was rather pretty, and surprisingly modest. Jessimyn approved of it, but it would be the only thing Maura had made for her where that was true.

Each subsequent dress was more revealing than the last. Each one was either too low cut, in the front or the back, or too wide across the shoulders. Holding them up, she could tell that they would be frightfully tight across the chest, and some were made to cling to her hips much more than she would have wanted. However, they all paled in comparison to the dress Maura had made for her to wear to the ball.

"Maura, that's not a dress," she said, growing a little angry. "That's perhaps half a dress at best. It's missing a sleeve, and there's no way I can get that on."

"Oh, but you'll look lovely in it. Come on," she coaxed. "Go ahead and try it on."

It was in a deep blue velvet. Over her left shoulder, the sleeve was full and long, cut at an angle so that it ended at her wrist on the top of her arm, but below the sleeve extended to a point almost to the knee. Had it been symmetrical like that, it might have been pretty... but it wasn't. Instead, the neckline cut below the right arm, so that the right shoulder and arm were left completely bare. But if that wasn't bad enough, it was almost completely backless. Maura had sewn two little copper chains across the back of the dress, which could be attached through button holes on one end, which were supposed to serve to keep the corner of the dress that would cover her right breast in place, running across her upper back.

"There is no way I'm wearing this," Jessimyn stated once she was in it. "I can't wear _any _undergarments under it, but worse, everyone will be able to tell that I can't. How easy would it be for one of those little chains to come loose, and then the whole right side of my body would be exposed. But the worst is the back." She gave Maura an angry look. "You realize that not only is it _winter_, but I'm supposed to wear this while dancing? You do realize that, don't you?"

Maura had her arms crossed over her chest. "It was made for the ball, so yes, I'm aware."

"Well, the way you've made this dress, it would mean that every man I danced with would have to touch my bare back. There's no available place they could put their hand where they wouldn't be touching my skin." Jessimyn shook her head. "This won't do at all. I'll have to wear one of the others for the ball."

"Absolutely not," Maura said. "None of the others are suitable. If you don't wear this dress, you'll be one short."

"Then I'll have to wear something twice," she said, and Maura laughed.

"Of course you can't do that. It's unheard of. It will undermine all the work I've done in making these. Besides, if it means some men get to touch you, all the better. Seems to me you'd be a lot less uptight if you could get a man between your legs every now and then," Maura stated.

"If I wanted to _get a man between my legs_," Jessimyn said. "I wouldn't need to resort to prancing around half naked to do it."

Maura grinned at her. "Of course not, but it doesn't hurt. Oh, come look at yourself in the mirror at least," she said, dragging Jessimyn to stand in front of the glass.

Truth was, it was very well made. The cut of the dress completely covered the scars on her left shoulder without it looking like that's what it was supposed to do. And it _was _very pretty, but it looked too much like something a woman would wear only in the privacy of her own bedroom. Jessimyn held up her right arm. "Everything else aside, don't you think it draws too much attention to the scars on my arm?" She asked.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Maura said, pulling out a small piece of material in the same blue of the dress. It was a cuff, made to fit her arm from elbow to wrist. It effectively covered the scars on her arm, and as Jessimyn turned in front of the mirror, she had to admit it almost made her look like she did before she became a Grey Warden, the exposed skin mostly smooth and free of flaws. Only the marks on her face couldn't be covered, but there was nothing to be done for that. Of course, that didn't change the fact that the thing was completely indecent.

There was a knock on the door just then, and Maura went to answer it. "Maura!" Jessimyn gasped, running to hide herself behind her dressing screen.

She heard the door open, and then there was a voice. "Oh, I... thought this was Jessimyn's room?"

Jessimyn poked her head out, a smile on her face. "Leliana!" The bard had been gone when she arrived, had been spending the autumn with a noble family in the Bannorn, so she hadn't seen her yet.

The red-head smiled brightly at her and went into the room, taking note of all the dresses lying out. "Oh, are you trying on clothes? Let me see, then."

And with that, Jessimyn knew she was going to lose the argument. As soon as Leliana saw the dress, she would be on Maura's side for sure. "No, no," she tried to protest. "Just let me change back into my own things, and we can go for a walk, catch up."

"Nonsense," said Leliana. "Let me see what you're wearing." She turned to Maura. "Are you the seamstress?" She ran a finger over one of the more revealing dresses before picking it up. "Oh, very nice." She smiled at her. "I'm an old friend of Jess'."

"The name's Maura," Maura said with a smile before turning back to Jessimyn. "You heard your friend. Show her the dress you've got on, unless you wish to humiliate me in front of a stranger."

Jessimyn groaned and slowly stepped out from behind the screen. Leliana squealed at her. "Turn around," she said, and when Jessimyn complied, she squealed even more. "Oh, I love it, I love it. So bold. You'll turn some heads in that."

"I don't want to turn heads," Jessimyn said.

Leliana laughed and went to hug her, though when she leaned back, she frowned, noticing the scars on her face. "Those are new," she said before kissing Jessimyn on the cheek.

And then... it was like she wasn't even there. Leliana and Maura began discussing the different ways her hair could be styled, so as to enhance the cut of the dress and make the scars less visible. With a sigh, Jessimyn went to change back into her trousers. Why was it she could command an army of Grey Wardens, unite a nation against the Blight, and slay a dragon, but she wasn't allowed to choose her own clothing? With Leliana and Maura against her, she had no chance. And she thought she'd been dreading the ball before.


	92. Jessimyn Chapter 92

The first day of the festivities, there was to be a parade through the city of Denerim. For that, at least, she got to wear normal clothes, since even Maura had to agree that it was impractical to wear a dress on a horse. She lined up with all of the other Grey Wardens the morning it was to take place, and she could feel the buzz of excitement around her. It felt a little odd, that she was there with a group of people who'd had nothing to do with the Blight, especially when Leliana, who had been there with her when the Archdemon was killed, was back at the palace. Of course, the celebration was about more than just that, and it _was _nice to be able to show how their numbers had grown over the past ten years. Their horses whinnied and skittered about as they waited for their cue that the parade was to begin.

Jessimyn heard a commotion and turned to see Alistair riding up to the front of the line. Ellynedra was sitting on the horse with him, in front of him in a saddle that seemed to be longer than normal, in order to fit the both of them. She was bundled from head to toe, and Alistair's cloak was wrapped around them both so that it covered her legs. He raised up on his horse, scanning the crowd of Wardens until he spotted Jessimyn, and then he beckoned her forward. With a groan, Jessimyn maneuvered her horse up through the crowd until she was next to him.

"What is it?" She asked. They'd been in Denerim a few weeks at that point, but they hadn't spoken much in that time. He'd been busy with his planning, and she was trying to stay out of sight as much as possible, with all the people milling about the palace. The only people she'd really seen were Leliana and Jenya, who had arrived only two weeks earlier. Jenya always had to bring Bryce and Lyla to see her, though, as she was staying with her father in the rooms that had once been reserved for the Couslands, which was across the hall from the rooms held by Teyrn Wulff. Wulff was the one person she wanted to avoid at all costs, for as long as she was possibly able.

"You're to ride up here, in front with us," he stated.

Jessimyn quirked her lips at him. "You promised I wouldn't be required to do anything extra during this whole thing, and you're already changing the rules."

Alistair gave her a smile that, at one time, would have sent a thrill through her. "I'm not changing anything," he said. "You were already going to ride in the parade. I'm just asking that you ride at my side. Nedda and I would both like if you did."

"Hi, Jess," Ellynedra said, peeking her head out, a grin on her face. "We're going to be in a parade!" She bounced up and down a little in the saddle.

"Be still," Alistair cautioned. "Remember what we talked about? That we can scare the horse if we're not careful?"

"Oh... yeah..." Ellynedra reached forward to pet the horse's mane. "Sorry, horsey," she said.

Alistair leaned down and kissed Ellynedra on the top of her head before looking over at Jessimyn. "Are we all ready then?"

"So it would seem," she responded.

One of his guardsmen moved to the other side of Alistair, and Jessimyn realized that she would be responsible for protecting him and the princess from her side, should it come to that. Other than that, Alistair had no guards with him, but with nearly one hundred Grey Wardens at his back, he shouldn't need any. Alistair raised up on his horse and made a motion with his hand, and with that, the parade and the festivities began. They wound up and down the streets of Denerim, and there were throngs of people along every road. Many were huddled together for warmth, but they broke out into cheers when they passed by, throwing confetti and streamers into the air. It all seemed so surreal.

"Smile," Alistair hissed at her. "And wave."

Occasionally someone would come forward to give her something. Mostly it was flowers, snowdrops and witch hazel and winter jasmine and other things that grew well in cold months. Sometimes it was some sort of small token, which she placed into the pocket of her cloak, to look at later. The flowers she kept lying across the front of her saddle. As they came to the end of the parade route, Alistair mounted a platform that had been erected. Still on his horse, he gave a pretty speech about the ending of the Blight and the purpose of the Grey Wardens. He did not mention her by name, nor did he call her up in front of the crowd, for which Jessimyn was very grateful. She remained with the other Wardens, and when Alistair was finished, they all rode back into the palace grounds, thunderous applause at their backs.

Once they made their way back to the stables, everyone dismounted quickly to get back inside where it was warm. Jessimyn took the time to gather all of the flowers, then she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the small pile of items she'd been given. Most of them were small, handcrafted knickknacks, but there was a medium-sized, folded piece of paper that she took the time to open up. It was some sort of drawing... but when she realized what it was, she let out an embarrassed laugh.

It was done by someone with a decent hand, and it was obviously supposed to be a picture of her. The face was close enough that there was a resemblance, but the hair was too long. However, it was the rest of the picture that made her blush a little. On the paper, she was standing in the middle, one hand raised to hold the head of a dragon. The other hand held a crown, positioned over the head of a kneeling man who was obviously supposed to be Alistair. She could understand the imagery used there, but what she couldn't understand was why the artist had chosen to draw her nude. The body of the figure that was supposed to be her was exaggerated in every way. The too-long hair did nothing to cover the enormous breasts drawn on her, which just seemed to hover over the impossibly tiny waist.

"What's that?" Asked a voice, and Jessimyn quickly pressed the paper to her chest, trying to hide it, as Alistair walked up.

"What's what? It's nothing," she said quickly, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Something someone gave you? Let me see," Alistair said as he reached for it. She tried to keep it from him, but he plucked it from her hands. He made a small noise as he looked at it. "Interesting..." He handed it back to her. "It looks nothing like you, though."

Jessimyn glanced down at the picture again. "I... don't know. I think they got the eyes and the nose right, at least." Why did she feel the need to defend the work of some unknown artist, especially one who had drawn an obscene picture of her?

When she looked up at him, Alistair was grinning. "Oh, well... I wasn't really looking at the face," he said before reaching down to pick up Ellynedra, who was standing at his side. "We'll see you at dinner tonight," he said, still smiling widely as he turned to stride back into the palace.

How did he manage to fluster her so? Jessimyn crammed the drawing, along with the other items, back into her pocket before heading back inside as well. Once in her room, she took the pitcher sitting on her dressing table, which was still half-filled with water, and arranged the flowers in it. The other items were set on the table next to the flowers. She'd only just sat down to take off her boots when there was a knock at the door. She barely opened it when Leliana and Maura swooped in.

"We saw the other Wardens were back," Leliana explained. "We need to get you ready for the dinner tonight."

"I'm not sure that I like the fact that the two of you are so chummy," Jessimyn admitted. "It feels like you're ganging up on me."

Leliana giggled as Maura went to open the wardrobe. "We're just looking out for you," said the bard. "After all, you'll want to look your best when you're up in front of all those people."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jessimyn asked with a feeling of dread.

"Didn't you know?" Leliana asked with a smile. "You're to sit at the high table, at the king's side. The princess will sit at his left, where a queen normally would be, but you're to sit at his right."

Jessimyn sank down on the bed with a groan. "No, I didn't know. Maker damn him, I told him I didn't want anything like that." A sudden fear hit her, and she looked at Leliana. "Who else is to sit at the high table?"

"Well," she said. "The teyrns and their families, I think. Wulff will probably be on Nedda's side, and Sedric will likely be on yours."

Jessimyn covered her face with her hands. She would finally have to see Wulff, and it would be while sitting at high table next to Alistair, the place where his daughter should have been. Just wonderful. She sighed and opened her eyes to see Maura setting out a dress for her. "Don't the two of you need to get ready as well?" She asked.

Maura smiled at her. "Of course, but we trust ourselves to wear something appropriate. Here, put this on."

The dress was made of a thick velvet, the color of red wine. The bodice was tight, leading to a full skirt, but the shoulders were cut so low that it looked like the sleeves weren't even attached. In fact, they were only connected by the barest strips of material between the top of the inner sleeves and the top of the bodice. Jessimyn went behind the dressing screen, pulling on a sleeveless chemise and a corset, which Maura laced up for her before she could get into the dress. There were buttons up the back of the dress, and Jessimyn got as many buttoned as she could manage. She was just stepping out from behind the screen when she heard Leliana's voice.

"What's this?" She asked, and Jessimyn looked to see her holding the crumpled piece of paper she'd been given during the parade. She lunged at her to get it away from her, but Leliana was too fast. "Oh my," she said, a smile on her face. "Oh my. Wherever did you get this?"

Jessimyn sighed. "During the parade. Someone slipped it to me."

Maura went to peer over Leliana's shoulder, and she cackled loudly when she got a look at it. "I'm not sure that's to scale," she said with a smile.

"Well, obviously not," Jessimyn said as she folded her arms over her chest. "Just look at the dragon's head. It was much bigger than that in real life."

"And your tits are much smaller than that in real life," Maura added with a grin, sending Leliana into a fit of giggles.

"Not all of us are quite so blessed as you, Maura," Jessimyn said.

"Ain't that the truth," the seamstress replied. "Now come here, let me finish buttoning you up."

Leliana did her hair as Maura tucked handkerchiefs in around the top of her dress before covering her face and shoulders with a fine powder. It did enough to cover her scars so that they wouldn't be quite so visible, at least from a distance. Up close, there was nothing that could be done. Jessimyn realized that, with Alistair on her left, he would get a good view not only of the ones on her face but also those on her shoulder. Why did that bother her so much? When she was finally done, the two women left her with strict instructions not to do anything but sit there and wait for Leliana to come back. Maura would be going to the dinner with Rian, but Leliana would accompany Jessimyn.

She met up with Sedric and Jenya outside the large dining hall, and Leliana left her to find her own seat. Jessimyn was suddenly very grateful for her sister-in-law and her family, and Sedric offered her his arm as they made their way up to the high table. The two center chairs were still empty, as the king and the princess would enter last, but Wulff was just arriving the same time she and Sedric took their seats. He gave her a cold look, and Jessimyn looked away. Finally the announcement came that the king was present, and everyone stood. Jessimyn almost smiled at the serious look on Ellynedra's face as she walked with her father down the hall to their place at the table. She was wearing a tiny crown on her head, which was a miniaturized version of the one Alistair was wearing. Once they got to their chairs, Alistair seated his daughter before sitting, which then signaled that everyone else could sit down.

As such things went, the meal dragged on for hours as the various courses were brought out and taken away. Jessimyn chatted with Sedric for most of the dinner, as any time Alistair turned to say something to her, Wulff would try to focus the king's attention back on him. Finally, the meal was over, and everyone stood and stretched. A petite blonde woman seemed to dart forward from one of the nearby tables that had held quite a few noble families. She slipped her hand into the crook of Alistair's elbow and lifted up on her toes to whisper something in his ear. He gave an uncomfortable-sounding laugh, his eyes darting to meet Jessimyn's.

"Uh, Teyrn Wulff, this is Lady Alys. I don't think the two of you have met," he offered.

Wulff gave Alys a bow. "A pleasure," he said, though his voice made it sound like it was anything but.

"And this is Jess. Jessimyn Cousland," he said to Alys.

Alys gave Jessimyn one of those beautiful, fake noblewoman smiles, her eyes locked onto the scars on Jessimyn's cheek. "I've heard so much about you," she said to the scars. "And it's lovely to finally meet you."

So this was the woman Alistair was supposed to be marrying... if he ever proposed. She was certainly pretty enough. "A pleasure to meet you as well," Jessimyn said, and Alys beamed at her.

As soon as was polite, Jessimyn excused herself and went to find Leliana, or Maura, or Jenya, or just about anyone else. They were all surrounded by people, though, and she didn't feel like elbowing her way in. She made as if to leave when she was stopped by another familiar face.

"Elda," she said with a smile, giving the woman a hug. Teagan bowed and kissed her hand. Jessimyn's eyes flickered to the woman's stomach, which seemed a little rounder than normal.

"Yes, I am," Elda said with a smile, and Jessimyn blinked at her. "You're trying to figure out if I'm pregnant, but you're too polite to just ask, for fear that perhaps I've just let myself go. But I am, in fact, pregnant, so there's no need to worry that you're going to offend me by asking."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Jessimyn said. "Congratulations to you both."

It was hours later before she finally made it back to her rooms. After talking with Elda and Teagan, Leliana had dragged her away, keeping her at her side while she told everyone about the new song she'd written to enter in the minstrels' competition to be held in a few days. Leliana seemed to know who everyone was, and she had supplied Jessimyn with the names that she couldn't remember. Whenever she had seen Alistair in the hall, he'd always had Alys on his arm. The woman held onto him like he was a prized possession she didn't want to let out of her sight. Or maybe Jessimyn was just being mean. After all, she had no reason to dislike the woman.

Her dress was hung up over the back of a chair, and Jessimyn struggled with her corset before finally being able to pull on her nightgown. As she blew out her lamp, she realized she still had days of such events to go. The end of the week couldn't come soon enough.

The next day was the day of the ball, which Jessimyn was probably dreading more than anything else. Thinking about it brought back memories of the last one she'd attended, so many years ago. Everything had seemed so much simpler then. Zevran had been there with her and Leliana. She'd been able to dance with her brother and flirt with the king, and everyone had just seemed so much happier then. How things had changed. A strange melancholy seemed to come over her that she couldn't shake.

Leliana seemed to notice as she was pinning up her hair. "What's wrong, Jess?"

"Nothing," she said automatically. She glanced at Maura, remembering something Alistair had told her. "Maura, you're from Oswin. Did you know Lady Alys at all."

"Made a few things for her a few times," Maura said. "Not often, though. She thought I was too crass. A right proper lady, that one is. Why do you ask?"

"Because she thinks the king is going to marry her," Leliana answered, and Jessimyn made a small sound. "He probably won't, though. He hasn't married any of them so far."

"Any of whom?" Jessimyn asked.

"Any of the women he attempts to court. It goes on for a season or two, but then nothing comes of it," Leliana said. "I don't know, though. She's been on his arm since last spring, so who knows." She gave Jessimyn's shoulder a quick squeeze. "Of course, the little stunt her family has pulled may have hurt her chances at the crown, yes?"

Jessimyn tilted her head up a little. "What do you mean?"

"There are always rumors, whenever the king shows any attention to a particular woman, that he will propose, but Alys' family began trying to spread rumors that he already had," Leliana explained. "Maybe they thought it would force his hand, push him to make it official since the rumors were out there. They weren't very careful about it, though, and it got back to Alistair what they were doing. He wasn't too pleased about it, as I'm sure you can imagine. Alys claims she knew nothing about it, but... There, all done."

Maura put a mirror in front of her face, and Jessimyn turned her head to inspect her hair. It had all been swept to the left side of her head, where it was tied in such a way that a number of long, tight curls fell down over her shoulder. Jessimyn knew it would leave her right shoulder completely bare, if she was wearing the obscene dress Maura had made for her. All of the pins with the shiny copper disks on the ends had been placed through her hair in a sort of pattern, and as Jessimyn turned her head, they sparkled in the light.

Leliana did Maura's hair next, and then it was time to get dressed. Jessimyn shivered as she held the front of the dress up to allow Maura to attach the chains. "I'm going to freeze in this," she complained, not for the first time. Maura smiled at her, then went to retrieve a short, blue cloak that matched her dress. Jessimyn gave her an astonished look. "If I knew there was a matching cloak..."

"It's only for dinner," Maura said sternly. "So as not to reveal the dress too soon. I'm going to come get it from you before the ball begins."

And sure enough, she did, leaving Jessimyn feeling half-naked as she walked into the enormous ballroom. She grabbed a drink from the first person passing by with a tray, gulping it down to help settle her nerves. Leliana giggled at her from her side. "There's no need to be nervous," she said.

As soon as the music started, she had someone asking her to dance. Her dress seemed to pose as much of a problem for the men as it did for her. Some politely put their hands on the side of her waist, which was covered by her dress, though some were bold enough to place their hands in the center of her bare back. It was the sweaty hands that bothered her the most, though the more she drank, the less it bothered her.

"Got time to dance with the likes of me," Jandin asked as he came up beside her as a song was ending. Jandin was not polite, but he _was _bold, and he didn't hesitate to hold her close. "That's... quite a dress you've got there," he said with a grin. "Can I call it a dress?"

"Shut up, Jandin," she said through clenched teeth.

Of course, he kept talking. "I mean, I've heard some of the other men talking. Mostly things I couldn't repeat, of course, but most agree that it shouldn't take too long to get you into bed with them, seeing as how you're already halfway undressed."

"That's charming," she said flatly. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

"Hey, I'm not talking about me," he said, still smiling at her. "You're not really my type. You know who is, though?" She raised an eyebrow at him, and Jandin suddenly looked... nervous? "Jenya," he said. "She's your sister, right? Think maybe you could put in a good word for me?"

Jessimyn couldn't help it, and she laughed. "A _good word_? What exactly are you hoping that will do for you?"

"I'll take whatever I can get," he said, grinning again. "Maker, but she's beautiful. I mean, you're all right, too, but Jenya..."

"Why don't you just... ask her to dance?" Jessimyn offered.

Jandin nodded. "Yes, maybe you're right. Think I will."

When the song ended, Jessimyn watched Jandin make his way over to Jenya. She saw them exchange words, and then he was leading her out onto the floor. He gave her a grin when Jenya wasn't looking, and Jessimyn laughed. She was about to walk over to get another drink when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Alistair standing there.

"Will you honor me with the next dance?" He asked, and Jessimyn could only nod.

He started out polite, with his hand on her waist, but it crept up her back as they danced. The close proximity, the heat from his hand on her back, it all brought back memories of that other ball, and it was almost too much. She made a move as if too pull away from him, but his arm around her was strong and unmoving. Alistair said nothing as they danced, just looking into her eyes, and all she could do was look back at him. She felt a flush moving up her neck and wondered if maybe she'd had too much to drink. When the song finally ended, Alistair held onto her still.

"Alistair," she said softly. "The song's over."

"There will be another one," he said in a low voice.

For that next song, Jessimyn forgot there was anyone else around. For that next song, she could almost pretend that things were as they had once been. For that next song, she could forget all of the horrible things that had happened in her life, forget that _this_ was not her life. But then the song ended, and Alys was there, pulling Alistair away. The hand on her back fell away, but he brought her hand up to his lips before he disappeared back into the crowd of people. Jessimyn turned around quickly, knowing she needed that drink even more than before, and she nearly ran into Wulff. He frowned at her before grabbing her hand, and then she was dancing with the last person she ever thought she would be. Jessimyn was suddenly regretful that she wasn't wearing the charm bracelet Hedy had made her. She knew Wulff didn't like her, but that wasn't enough to set it off. It would have been nice to know if he meant her harm, though.

"Your dress is indecent," he said gruffly.

"You look rather dashing yourself," she replied back, and his frown deepened.

"I don't like you," he said, his tone blunt. "And I don't trust you. But I want your help with something."

"Well, you do know how to charm a lady, don't you," Jessimyn quipped.

"You're hardly a lady," he scoffed, but then his features smoothed, as if he was trying to control himself. "I have heard that the king has offered you Eamon's old position. Is this true?"

"It is," she said, lifting her chin.

"That means he values your advice, Maker knows why. I need you to convince him not to marry that woman," Wulff said.

Jessimyn gave him a surprised look. "Why should it matter to you who the king marries?"

Wulff sighed and began speaking as if explaining something to a child. "She is too young. He needs an older bride. A young queen will want children of her own, and she will want those children to be named his heir once they are born. What will happen to Ellynedra, if she is disinherited?"

"I really don't think that Alistair would ever..." Jessimyn began.

"But you can't be sure," Wulff cut in. "I won't let Ellynedra suffer the same fate as Lyrina, just because Alistair went and allowed himself to be distracted by a pretty face. I think you owe it to Lyrina to see that her daughter keeps her place."

"I'm not sure I have the kind of influence you think I do," she protested.

"I wish that was true," He said sullenly, and then the song ended, and he was gone.

Jessimyn declined the next offer she got to dance as she went in search of wine. Leliana found her while she was finishing the glass, her eyes sparkling. "Having fun?" She asked cheerily, and Jessimyn just grunted at her. "I don't think you've made a friend in Alys, though. You should have seen the look on her face during that second dance you had with Alistair."

"Wonderful," Jessimyn said with a sigh, and then she told Leliana the things Wulff had said to her.

Leliana listened intently, waving away a few men as they came over to ask the two of them to dance. "He has a point," she said finally. "Alistair is still young. Any new queen of his will expect him to give her children and will expect him to name them as his heirs."

"No second wife would ask a father to put aside his firstborn," Jessimyn said, shaking her head.

Leliana smiled at her. "Unless she was an ambitious noblewoman, you mean? Come on, let's dance."

Leliana grabbed her hand and dragged Jessimyn out onto the floor. Leliana held her hands out, taking the man's part in the dance, but halfway through the song they switched, and Jessimyn played the man. At the end of the dance, they both nearly collapsed together in a fit of giggles that seemed to stay with them until the ball finally ended. They were two of the last to leave, walking arm in arm out of the ballroom. Alistair stood near the door, bidding a good night to his guests, and he smiled at them as they neared.

"You do throw the best parties," Leliana said with a smile. "It's just too bad everyone else left."

Alistair chuckled. "I'm surprised you're not wanting more rest, so you'll be ready for the singing tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't think I'll be getting any rest tonight. Isn't that right, Jess?" She asked, giving Jessimyn a mischievous smile. She turned back to Alistair. "Since none of the men seemed very interested in Jess here, she decided to spend the night with me." Jessimyn let out a sputtering, choking sound, and Leliana giggled. "You know, though," Leliana continued. "I happen to know from experience that my bed will fit three. You should join us, Alistair."

"That's quite an offer," he said with a laugh as he put a hand on Leliana's shoulder. His other hand snaked around Jessimyn's waist, his fingers just barely touching the skin exposed at her back.

"Alistair!" Came a voice from behind him. He dropped the hand from Leliana's shoulder and turned around to face Alys, who was standing a little ways off, a slightly annoyed look on her face. The hand on Jessimyn's waist, however, did not leave, and instead it slid slowly up her back, drawing a little gasp from her lips. Alys crossed her arms over her chest. "Aren't you... I thought you were going to walk me back to my rooms."

"You best go," Jessimyn said in a whisper. "We wouldn't want your little friend to get lost." Leliana giggled, and Alistair turned his head to give her a look. His thumb moved a little on her back, and Jessimyn took a deep breath. "Go on," she said.

His hand moved back down her back, then fell to his side before he took a step away, going to Alys' side. She grabbed onto his arm as soon as he was close enough, and they disappeared down the hall.

"You're wicked," Leliana giggled at her.

Jessimyn rounded on her, her eyes wide with laughter. "Me? I can't believe what _you _said." Then Jessimyn was giggling, too, the wine definitely going to her head. "But did you see the look on his face?" They walked together until they got to the hallway where they had to part to go to their own rooms. Leliana kissed her cheek. "Maker," said Jessimyn, giving the woman a hug. "I've missed you, Leliana."

Leliana smiled at her. "I've missed you, too. Now go get some sleep. I don't want you to miss my song tomorrow." Jessimyn turned to go, but Leliana called her back. "Oh, but Jess? If Alistair shows up at my room tonight, I want you to know I'm sending him to you."


	93. Alistair Chapter 93

When he opened his eyes, the sun was only just barely coming up, filling his room with a dim light. Alistair let out a groan at the dull throbbing in his head. Perhaps he had overdone it a little the night before. He grabbed a pillow and put it over his eyes so that he could fall back to sleep when he heard a noise from his side. He was not alone in the bed. His mind flashed back to the events from the previous night that stood out the most. That first view of Jessimyn in her dress. Dancing with Alys. Dancing with Jessimyn. Leliana's indecent but oh-so-tempting proposition. Walking Alys to her rooms, only to have her suggest that they go back to his instead...

He turned his head to see the pretty, smiling face at his side. He smiled back. "Good morning."

"Hi, Dadders," Ellynedra said as she snuggled down into the blankets.

"It's a little early to be up, don't you think?" He asked her.

"But the sun is up!" Ellynedra protested.

"It's _coming _up, yes, but it's still early. I'll let you stay here, but you have to sleep."

She scooted close to him and pressed her forehead against his. "But I'm too excited to sleep," she whispered, and Alistair laughed.

"I know," he said. "Today's the singing, and that's your favorite. But you don't want to be so tired that you'll have to go to bed early and miss it all, do you?" She shook her head, giving him a serious look, and he kissed her cheek. "Good. Now go back to sleep." He pulled the blankets up under her chin, and soon she was snoring softly, just as her mother always had.

It was a few hours later when he was awakened by a voice. "Nedda?" A voice called through the open doorway that led to what had been the queen's chambers. "Your Highness?"

"She's in here, Dera," he called back, then turned to his daughter. "Go on, Nedda. Let Dera get you ready, then come back over here." When she was gone, he called Eldryn in to help him get ready as well.

With Lyrina gone, it had made sense to put Ellynedra in her old rooms. Sometimes his daughter got frightened in the night, and no nursemaid could comfort her the way he could. He hadn't wanted her to have to go out into one of the main halls to get to him, and the little private hallway that connected his bedchamber to the queen's seemed like the perfect solution. Of course, were he to marry again, he'd have to move Ellynedra to a different set of rooms. Perhaps that was just one more reason why he was hesitating about the whole remarriage thing.

Eamon had been one of the most vocal in trying to get him to remarry. He liked to stress that a little girl needed a mother. But how could a stranger ever really be a mother to her? How could any of the noblewomen he'd halfheartedly courted over the past couple years ever love her even a tenth as much as he did? He knew that, for the most part, their interest in him was solely based on the crown upon his head, but he needed to find a woman who knew that being mother to his daughter was just as important, if not more so, as being queen to his king. But in that, he was still looking.

Eldryn finished with him and took his leave, and Alistair went into his sitting room to wait for his daughter to be ready.

His thoughts turned to Alys as he waited. He had known, the first time he saw her again after returning from Amaranthine, that his feelings for her had changed. She was still enjoyable to be around, but he wasn't sure he wanted to marry her. He had tried to gently tell her so a few times, but she either didn't understand, or she refused to. The fact that he was so unsure about what to do with her was the main reason he'd turned down her offer from the night before. The reason he hadn't slept with her already was that she was still a virgin, and he wasn't going to take that from her if he wasn't also going to make her his wife. But he also knew that, if he had taken her to his bed, he likely would have been thinking of someone else while he was with her.

Of course, had it been Jessimyn who had offered to share his bed, Alistair wasn't sure he would have said no, especially considering the mood he'd been in the night before. The feel of her skin under his hand had been almost more intoxicating than the wine. He'd always had trouble keeping his hands to himself when he was around her, and the previous night had been no exception. He'd seen some of the other men watching her, though, and he knew he wasn't the only person thinking such things. In fact, he had felt a sense of childish relief to see her leaving on the arm of Leliana instead of anyone else. He vividly recalled the jealousy he'd felt at seeing her leave with Zevran, at the last ball Alistair and Jessimyn had both attended so many years ago. Oh, if only their friendship was as easy to rekindle as their attraction, he mused to himself.

But then Ellynedra came bounding into the sitting room, and thoughts of Jessimyn were pushed aside. "Can we go now?" She asked as she jumped up and down in front of him. "I want to hear the singing."

"It's not to start for hours yet," he told her.

"Oh," she said, her voice filled with disappointment, but then she smiled again. "Can I color, then?"

Alistair went and got out her paper and chalks, which she spread over the floor. Every new picture was brought to him for approval. This one was of the two of them riding in the parade. This one was her riding on a flying horse. Here was one of her fighting a dragon. Every drawing had a story, and he listened with interest to each one. Perhaps there were other things he could have been doing, but there was nothing he would have _rather_ been doing. Plus, the relaxing atmosphere helped his headache to subside.

Eldryn answered the door when there was a knock, and Alys glided into the sitting room, ignoring the pictures on the floor as she went over to him. "Good morning," she said brightly, even though it was well past noon at that point.

"Hi, Alys," said Ellynedra from where she was coloring on the floor.

Alys gave Ellynedra a cursory smile, her attention on him. "Alistair, you still haven't given me an answer about the tourney tomorrow." She sat down at his side, putting her hand brazenly on his knee. "Am I to join you in your box or not?"

The tourney field had been set up so that it was surrounded by seats, with the king's box in the middle of one side. Lesser boxes had been set up around his, for some of the higher ranking nobles, but a choice few would accompany him in his own. As teyrns, both Wulff and Sedric would be at his side, of course, along with Ellynedra. "I'm not sure there will be room," he said carefully. "I've told you, same as I told you before the feast, that your place is with your family."

Alys stuck out her bottom lip at him. "You treat me just like any other noblewoman, and that's not fair. I deserve to be up there with you." She pouted, emphasizing just how young she really was. Strange, Alys was about the same age Jessimyn had been when they'd first met, but he never remembered Jessimyn acting quite so... "So who _is _going to join you, then?" She asked sullenly.

"Wulff and Sedric, of course," he began.

"And me!" Ellynedra piped in, and Alistair smiled.

"Yes, and Nedda. Teagan and Elda, Jenya and her children..." He continued.

"Why them?" She asked with disdain.

Alistair frowned. "Bryce and Lyla are Nedda's cousins, as you are well aware. And Teagan is like an uncle to me." He paused. "And Jessimyn will be there, of course."

Alys narrowed her eyes. "Why _of course_? Why does she get the place of honor while you make me sit in a lower box with my family?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. "She's kind of the reason for this whole thing." He wondered how Alys would react if she knew just how much Jessimyn hated being in that place of honor, knew that he put her there in part because he knew how much it would annoy her. "She has earned the right to be honored."

Alys crossed her arms over her chest. "It just all seems very scandalous, considering..."

"Watch yourself!" Alistair said sternly. He would not have her saying what he thought she was going to say in front of Ellynedra. "We are not alone, and you will not say such things in front of my daughter." Ellynedra didn't seem to notice, though, as her focus was on the paper in front of her.

"Well..." Alys said. "I just meant..." She shook her head. "I would look better at your side than she would." Alistair just looked at her. That sentence spoke volumes, and he didn't like it. His look must have flustered her, because Alys continued. "The people should be able to see someone young, and pretty, and free of scandal at your side. All of those scars make her difficult to look at. It's one thing to know that she's supposed to be a hero. It's another thing to be forced to look at her. That's all I meant."

Alistair stood up. "Thank you for telling me that," he said, and she started to smile... until he continued. "It makes me know I've made the right decision. You will sit with your family. If that bothers you, don't come. I'm not sure I care right now."

"Alys," Ellynedra said. "Alys..."

"You don't mean that," Alys said, her demeanor completely changed. "I didn't mean to question you, Alistair, I just thought..."

"You've already told me what you thought," he said.

"Alys!" Ellynedra said again.

"What?" Alys gave her an annoyed look.

"You're standing on my picture," she said as she pulled on a piece of paper beneath Alys' foot.

Alys moved, lifting her foot up to look at the bottom of her shoe. "Wonderful, now I've got chalk on my shoe. It's completely ruined." She turned and flounced out of the room.

Alistair sighed. Where had that come from? He couldn't remember ever having argued with Alys before. He turned to look at Ellynedra, whose eyes were filling with tears. "My picture," she said as a fat tear slid down her cheek. She held up the drawing, the one of her riding a flying horse, and the chalks were smeared across it from Alys' foot.

"Oh, Nedda," he said. "I'm sorry. Come here, we can draw another one together, all right?" He offered, pulling her into his lap.

"Okay," she said sadly.

He cleared off the table so that they could draw, and together they remade the picture of Ellynedra on the flying horse. When they were done, she gathered up all her drawings, and Alistair let out a small sound. "Oh, Nedda. Your hands are a mess. And you have chalk on your face." He smiled at her. "And you have chalk on your knees, too. Go find Dera, have her clean you up, then come back here. It's nearly time for dinner, and then we can go watch the singers."

Ellynedra had trouble sitting still during the meal, and once it was over, she grabbed at Alistair's hand, trying to drag him into the ballroom where the minstrels were to perform. "Patience, Nedda," he whispered to her. "We have to give everyone else time to get in there. Don't worry, they're not going to start without us."

Alys came up to them while they waited, all sweetness and light, as if they hadn't argued earlier. She stayed in the dining hall until the last moment, so it looked like she was arriving with them as they went into the ballroom. At least she didn't follow them up onto the dais, where two thrones were set up. He placed Ellynedra on hers, then sat next to her. A small table sat between them, covered with flowers, which were to be given to the minstrels who pleased them. He'd already told Ellynedra she could be the one to give them out.

Some of the singers were quite good, and some were awful, but Ellynedra stood up and clapped for every one. Considering the reason for the festivities, most of the songs were about the Blight, or the killing of the Archdemon, or Grey Wardens in general. There were many times throughout the evening when he would catch Jessimyn's eye, as she stood along the wall of the room, and they would share a smile at some awful inaccuracy or another. Finally, they came to the last performer.

Leliana made her way to the center of the room. The crowd grew silent. Not only was she one of the most sought after performers in Ferelden, but it was also well known that she had been one of the heroes of the Blight. Ellynedra wiggled in excitement before moving to sit on Alistair's lap. Leliana was by far her favorite.

The song started out slow, and she sang about how the darkspawn came to be, about the first Grey Wardens who rode griffins to vanquish the evil and save mankind from the first Blights, before moving on to the Blight they'd all seen. The song grew in intensity as she told of the dangers they had faced in building an army. The way she told it, everything seemed much more heroic than he remembered. The song reached its peak as she sang about the killing of the Archdemon, of the beautiful hero who faced death to save so many lives. When it ended, the applause was nearly deafening.

Ellynedra pressed her mouth to Alistair's ear. "Can I give her all the flowers?" She whispered to him, and he nodded. She scooped up everything that remained on the table and ran them out to Leliana, who crouched down to accept her prize from the princess. Ellynedra then ran back up, where she was to announce who she chose as the winner. It was no surprise when she called out Leliana's name, and the bard came up to accept the purse.

As he was presenting it to her, he caught sight of Jessimyn disappearing out a side door, one which lead into a private room and further out onto a balcony. Leliana seemed to notice, too, and they exchanged a glance. Once the presenting of the purse was over, and the people in the crowd began talking, Alistair whispered, "Are you going to go out there?"

She gave him a little smile. "Oh, no. People will want to tell me how wonderful I was, yes? I think you should go see what's wrong."

Alistair glanced over at Ellynedra, but she was talking excitedly with Lyla and Jenya. He motioned for one of his guardsmen to keep an eye on her, and then he went down the side of the dais towards the side door. He was stopped a few times, but only briefly. It was just good that Alys seemed otherwise occupied as he went into the private room. It was meant as a meeting room, with a large table in the middle, but it hadn't been used in a while and it was cold. Jessimyn was nowhere to be seen, so he went to the door that led outside.

The balcony was recessed into the side of the palace, so there wasn't much wind, but it was still cold outside. Jessimyn was leaning against the railing, and she turned to look at him when he opened the door. It was suddenly very awkward, as Alistair recalled his behavior at the ball the night before. They were only tentatively getting along at best, and he had ended the night by groping her back, then leaving with another woman. "Is everything all right?" He asked hesitantly, and she nodded.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just... needed some air," she said, turning again to look out over the city. All of Denerim lay before them. The sun had set, but the expanse of land below twinkled with all of the lights burning throughout the city.

"This was always one of my favorite views of the city," he said as he moved to stand at her side. "But I don't think that's why you came out here. For the view or for the air."

She turned her body so that her back was to him. "I'm not a hero, Alistair. Leliana's song was beautiful, but... we both know that's not how it was. But at least..." She paused, and he watched her wrap her arms around her body. "I've watched too many people die since then. Aren't heroes supposed to give everyone a happy ending?" She was quiet for a moment, her back still to him, and he reached out to put his hands on her upper arms. "She called me beautiful and brave, but if I was ever either of those things, I'm not any longer."

"Of course you are," He said softly as he took a step closer, moving his hands up to her shoulders. She shivered. "Are you cold?" He asked.

"No," she answered.

"But you're trembling," he said.

"Yes."

He pressed his chest to her back, but then she was pulling away. "Maybe I _am_ cold," she said quickly. "I think I'm going to go back inside.

Alistair caught her hand as she tried to walk away, pulling her back to face him. "Why do you always do that?" He asked. "Why do you always run away?"

"Because it's safer than staying?" Jessimyn answered, her eyes a little wide. "You're to be married again soon, Alistair. We've played this game before, and it had disastrous results. I won't do it again."

"I'm not going to marry Alys," he said quickly, and as he said it, he realized it was true.

"Well... that will make Wulff very happy," she replied, and he gave her a confused look. "Last night, he told me that I owed it to Lyrina, to see that you don't marry Alys or anyone like her."

"What do you mean, anyone like her?" He asked.

"Young enough to want a baby, young enough to still be able to have one in the time it might take to conceive one with you. Someone who would then push for her child to be named as heir over Ned," she said.

"I would never put Nedda aside," he said, almost angry.

Jessimyn nodded. "That's what I told Wulff."

Alistair frowned. "I... didn't think he even liked you. I mean..."

"Oh, he doesn't," Jessimyn agreed, giving him a sad smile. "But that just shows how worried he is about the whole thing. He said that, if you were asking for me to be your adviser, then you had to at least listen to my advice, though he made it quite clear what _he _thinks of the whole thing."

"You've never given me an answer about that," he mentioned, still holding onto her hand.

"It's been almost six years," Jessimyn said in answer. "Six years since I lived in Denerim, six years since we... I've been so focused on the Grey Wardens in that time. I don't know anything of what's been going on here."

Alistair smiled, pulling her closer to put her hand against his chest. "I'm not looking for someone to tell me what to do. In my ten years as king, I've learned a thing or two. No, what I need is someone whose judgment I can trust, someone who can help me see things I may have missed. Someone who can tell me I'm being an ass, in the rare occasions when that's in fact the case." She was still trembling a little, and he put his free hand lightly on her waist.

"Tell me, Alistair," she said, looking up at him. "Did you touch Eamon quite so much as this?"

He chuckled. "Not quite so much, no. I never invited him to spend the night with me, either..."

"For which I'm sure he was grateful," she said, ignoring his offer. "Alistair... I can't just... you can't expect me to just be able to pick up where we left off six years ago. I don't think you really could, either. If I were to agree to your request, and I don't know that I can... but if I did, I would need you to realize that. There would have to be boundaries. Boundaries which you have stomped all over the past couple days."

Alistair nodded and dropped his hands, taking a step back from her, though it was an effort. "I can respect that, Jess. I just... I want you here, in Denerim." A thought came to him, and he smiled. "Besides, if you were to stay, you could continue giving Nedda lessons. I know she would like that."

Jessimyn smiled at him. "Do you always use your daughter to get your way?"

He grinned. "If it benefits her, too, why not? Why, did it work?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "I don't know. Let's just see if we can get through this week first."

Alistair nodded. "Very well. But we should get back inside. Your nose is turning red."

"You go first," she said. "I don't think it would look good for either of us, to be returning together from a small, private room. Go ahead. I'll be in in a minute."

Nodding again, Alistair turned and went back into the ballroom. The heat seemed to hit him in the face, making him realize just how cold it had been outside. He moved to go find Ellynedra, but Alys caught him along the way. "There you are," she breathed. "I've been looking everywhere for you." She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and frowned. "Why are you so cold. Were you out..." She turned to glance at the door, and Alistair did as well, just in time to catch Jessimyn slipping inside. "Oh," she said, the hurt plain in her voice. "Oh," she said again, removing her hand from his arm to walk again.

Alistair sighed. He wanted to go after her, to explain everything to her. It was a conversation they needed to have anyway, but now was not the time. He was not about to make a scene in front of all of his guests. Instead, he went to Ellynedra. She was his excuse to make it an early night. He dismissed Dera and got his daughter ready for bed himself, making sure the fire in the hearth was stoked up, tucking her in before kissing her goodnight. He had just gotten back to his sitting room when there was a knock on his door. He waved Eldryn off in order to open it himself, hoping...

But it wasn't Jessimyn at the door. Of course it wasn't. No, Alys stood there, her face pale, her arms crossed over her chest. "May I... come in?" She asked. He stood aside, gesturing for her to enter. She hesitated, then took a seat on the couch, and he sat next to her. "You're not going to marry me, are you?" She asked.

Alistair blinked at the blunt question, but if that's how she wanted to do it, that was fine with him. "No," he said. "I don't think it's what would be best for either of us."

"But it could be," she said, her eyes a little wide. "I would make a good queen, Alistair. A good wife."

"What about as a mother?" He asked, frowning at her.

"What? Oh, well... yes, in time I would make a good mother, too," she said, clutching at his hands.

Alistair shook his head. "I was talking about Nedda. She and I are a package deal, and I don't think you've ever truly realized that."

"Of... of course I do. She will always be your daughter, of course I know that," she said quickly.

"And heir," he said.

"Oh, well, of course she is for now. But if we were to have a son, then..."

Alistair stood up. "Alys, we will never have a son because we will never marry. I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but it's what I need to say." He sighed. "I know you've been staying at your family's estate here in Denerim, but I think that, when they leave to go back to Oswin once the celebration is over, you should go with them."

"Oh, Alistair," she said, her eyes filling with big tears. "You don't mean that. Tell me you don't mean that." She slid to her knees in front of him, grabbing onto his leg.

"Get up, Alys," he said gently, reaching a hand down to her.

She took it and stood up slowly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Giving him a defiant look, she said, "I think you will regret this decision one day. You will look back and see that you should have chosen me over that... that..."

"Careful, Alys," he warned, dropping her hand. "It's late. I think you should go."

Turning on her heel, Alys stalked from his room. When the door shut behind her, Alistair sank down into his chair. Well, that was fun. At least with what she'd said of Ellynedra, with what Alys had expressed in her hopes for her own future children, he knew he had made the right decision. That didn't make it any easier, though. He went in search of wine. Perhaps he'd had too much to drink the night before, but _that_ night he hadn't had nearly enough.


	94. Jessimyn Chapter 94

"Oh, come on. You _have _to," Leliana said as she bounced up and down on Jessimyn's bed. "It won't be nearly as much fun if I have to do it by myself."

Jessimyn smiled at her, shaking her head as she pulled on her boots. The first day of the tourney was set to begin soon, and they were getting ready to head out to the fields. It had originally been set to take place all in one day, but there were so many entrants that it was decided to split it up, with the joust the first day and the melee the second. Jessimyn had planned to watch the whole thing from the sidelines, but Leliana had gotten it into her head that she wanted to fight in the melee, and she wanted Jessimyn to join her.

"It will only lend credence to my stories," Leliana explained. "Everyone sees me as the dainty minstrel. It will be fun to show them another side, yes? Say you'll do it, Jess. Please? For me?"

"Fine," she said with a laugh. "For you. Now where's my cloak?"

Together they walked to the tourney grounds. Leliana kept giving her looks, and finally Jessimyn said, "What? What is it, Leliana?"

Leliana smiled at her. "Oh... nothing. I just happened to notice that you and Alistair were alone in that side room for a very long time last night. At first I was insulted that maybe you didn't like my song, but then I realized how ridiculous that was. So the only answer is that the two of you were..."

"Talking? Yes, that's what we were doing," Jessimyn said, giving Leliana an irritated look.

Leliana giggled. "Is that all? Because I also heard that Lady Alys was all in a huff this morning, and that she has plans to go back to Oswin in a few weeks. But I suppose that's just a coincidence."

"She is?" Jessimyn asked, then shook her head. "Well... if something happened between her and Alistair, it's between them."

"But beneficial to you, yes?" Leliana said with a smile.

Jessimyn pulled her cloak tightly around her as they stepped outside. "I... want Alistair to be happy. If she wasn't the person who could be that for him, then I suppose it's for the best, but I'm not going to put myself in the middle of his affairs. Not again."

"But don't you see?" Leliana asked. "He sent her away to make room for you. So now there's nothing to get in the middle of. It would just be the two of you."

Jessimyn stopped walking, turning to face Leliana. "I'll tell you the same thing I told him. He and I can't just pick up where we left off. Too much has happened, and we're not the same people we used to be. At the very least we would have to start all over again, but even _that_ I think would be too hard for us. Besides, I'm probably going back to Amaranthine in a few weeks anyway. Why are you grinning at me like that?"

"The same thing you told him, is it?" Leliana asked, her eyes practically twinkling. "So then you've discussed all this with him."

"Maker, Leliana," Jessimyn said, grabbing her by the arm to continue their walk.

"But I don't think you'd be starting _completely _over. I saw the way the two of you reacted to each other at the ball," she said, giving Jessimyn a nudge. "You can't tell me there aren't still some of the old feelings there."

Jessimyn sighed softly. "Physically, perhaps. I mean, yes, the attraction is still there. But that's something that's either there or it's not. Everything else would take time... and I'm not even saying that I'd want anything else. Honestly, I'd almost rather that the attraction _wasn't _still there. It would certainly make things easier."

"But then it wouldn't be quite so tragically romantic," said Leliana with a smile.

"Always thinking like a bard, aren't you?" Jessimyn asked. "Come on, we need to hurry or we'll be late."

They had to push through the throngs of people to get to their places. Leliana was going to sit in the box occupied by the bann of White River. His youngest son was quite taken with her, but Leliana was hoping to kindle a romance with the bann's niece. Jessimyn climbed up the stairs that had been erected next to the king's box. All of the other occupants were already there, and Lyla and Bryce ran to hug her as she arrived. They took their seats, and then shortly thereafter Alistair stood up, welcoming everyone to the tourney in a booming voice. Once they were all seated again, the heralds made their way to the center of the field, to call out the names of the participants.

As the names were called, the men stepped forward. Most were knights or nobles, though there were a few who were neither. When Jandin's name was called, Jessimyn gaped. She had figured many of the Grey Wardens would be participating in the melee the following day, but she hadn't known that any would know how to joust. But then she noticed the small piece of cloth hanging from his belt, and she peered at it with a frown.

"Jenya," she said, turning to her sister-in-law, who was sitting next to her. "Is Jandin... wearing your favor? That looks like your crest at his waist."

Jenya blushed as her lips curled up into a smile. "Yes, he... asked for it from me."

"I see," said Jessimyn, returning the smile. _Well, good for them_, she thought.

Bryce sat with Sedric, their attention focused as they watched the jousting, but Lyla and Ellynedra were less interested and spent much of the day playing with each other. Any attempts to tell them to be still, to calm down, were completely ineffective. Servants brought them mulled wine, and Jessimyn held the warm cup up to her face, inhaling the steam as she leaned against the box's railing. Alistair came to stand next to her, giving her a nod. They watched the jousts in silence for a while before he spoke.

"You know, Jakob has been wanting to go to Amaranthine," he said, looking out over the fields. "He has been running things at the compound here since you left, but he was never really cut out for any sort of administrative work. If... you were to stay in Denerim, you could probably take charge again of the Grey Wardens here, and he'd be free to go there. As my adviser, you would be offered rooms in the palace, of course, but you could just as easily make your permanent residence at the compound." He finally turned to look at her. "If that would make you more comfortable."

"They still need me in Amaranthine," she said in response.

Alistair nodded. "Of that I have no doubt. Look, you could find purpose as a Grey Warden in either place, here or there. You may be needed there, but you are _wanted _here."

She gave him an amused look. "Are you implying that I'm not wanted in Amaranthine?"

"Not in the same way you're wanted here, Jess," he said, and then he walked back to his seat.

Jessimyn stayed where she was and finished her wine before going to sit back down, although she found her chair to be occupied. She smiled at the two little girls huddled together in her seat. "Hey, that's my chair!" She said with a smile, and they giggled. "Tell you what. Let me sit down, and then the two of you can sit on my lap. We can help keep each other warm." Lyla and Ellynedra agreed, and once she had one on each knee, she pulled her cloak around the three of them.

"You're warm, Aunt Jess," Lyla said.

Ellynedra gaped at Lyla first, and then at Jessimyn. "She's your aunt?" She asked, and Lyla nodded. Ellynedra looked up at Jessimyn. "Are you my aunt, too?"

Jessimyn smiled. "No, I'm not. The two of you are cousins because your mothers are related. I'm Lyla and Bryce's aunt because I'm related to their father."

"But our father died," Lyla said sadly.

Ellynedra nodded. "So did my mother."

Jessimyn felt an ache in her chest, and she hugged the two girls tightly to her. She didn't look forward to the day when they found out about how the deaths of their parents were related. She wondered how it would affect their relationship with each other and found herself hoping they could still be friends. Soon enough, the two of them grew bored and were up and running again. Jessimyn watched them for a while before realizing that Wulff was standing at her side, practically glaring down at her. She forced a smile at him.

"I heard that you passed along my advice to Alistair, heard that he took it. I thank you, and I'm glad to see you know how to do the right thing," he said.

Jessimyn looked up at him. "There's no need to thank me," she said, using the line Alistair had given her back in Amaranthine. "Because I didn't do it for you. I didn't do it for Lyrina either, in fact, because I don't feel like I owe her anymore than I've already done in that respect. I did it for Ned's sake. You wouldn't have come to me if it wasn't a legitimate concern, and if I could do anything to make sure nothing else is taken away from that little girl, then I'm willing to do it."

He made a small grunting sound before nodding, and the Wulff turned and walked away. Jessimyn sighed. It seemed that she wouldn't be allowed to watch any of the festivity's events in peace. She heard Jenya make a sound, and when she turned to look out onto the field, she saw Jandin taking his place at one end of the tilt. When the signal was given, he went charging at his opponent, unseating him on the first pass. Later, when it was his next turn at the joust, it took two passes for him to unseat the other man. Jandin was the one unseated on his third turn, and Jenya let out a little gasp.

When she saw Jessimyn look at her, she smiled. "It's all very exciting, isn't it?"

Jessimyn grinned. "He did quite well, I'd say," she said, and Jenya nodded.

The final match was between two knights Jessimyn didn't know, and it took three passes and two splintered lances before the joust was won. Alistair awarded a purse to the winner, and then the crowds began to disperse. It was obvious that Jenya wanted to wait around a little, so Jessimyn offered to take Lyla and Bryce back to the palace. As the two girls weren't quite ready to be parted yet, Jessimyn ended up walking back with Alistair at her side, a group of guardsmen at their back.

"Did you all enjoy yourselves?" Alistair asked.

Bryce spoke up first. "Oh, yes, Your Majesty. I can't wait for the melee tomorrow. I wonder who will win."

Jessimyn smiled. "Well, I hope you cheer for me," she said.

Alistair raised an eyebrow at her. "You'll be fighting?" He asked, and Jessimyn nodded. "I didn't know that."

"Leliana and I both," she replied.

Once they got back to the palace, Jessimyn took Lyla and Bryce to their rooms before going to have a bath drawn for herself. She had convinced Alistair to invite the winner of the joust to sit at his side at high table that evening for dinner, leaving her free to sit at one of the lower tables with Leliana, and she was actually looking forward to the meal. When she entered the hall to take her seat, she caught Alys' eye. She hadn't seen her at the joust, and the woman looked like she'd spent all day readying herself for the dinner. When Alys saw that she wasn't heading up to the high table, she gave her a triumphant, cold smile. Jessimyn almost laughed. Well, let the woman think whatever she wanted.

When the meal ended, Jessimyn watched as Alys hurried up to Alistair's side, only to watch him pull away from her when she tried to take his arm. Alys tried to act like nothing had happened, and she followed him around the room, though it seemed like she was mostly ignored. The girl was trying so hard, it almost made Jessimyn feel sorry for her. Almost.

The next morning was almost a treat. Jessimyn had no one pestering her about what she was going to wear or how she was going to do her hair. Armor was so much simpler. When she was ready, she went to find Leliana, and they headed to the fields early. They took no weapons with them, since blunted swords and daggers would be provided. They were some of the first there, so they went through the racks of weapons slowly, testing the balance of each one until they both found a pair that was suitable to them. Then they moved to the recess and waited, huddling together in their cloaks to keep warm.

The noise from the crowds above them grew louder and louder, and soon they heard the call of the heralds to signal the start of the day's events. The group of fighters slowly made their way out onto the fields. Leliana let out a little yelp as they started to move, and Jessimyn turned to see Alistair standing behind them, a goofy smile on his face.

"Have you come to play as well," Leliana asked with a grin.

Alistair nodded. "I couldn't let the two of you have all the fun. It's almost like old times. Let's show these people how it's done."

The melee was a free for all, which meant that every man or woman was for himself, with one ultimate winner in the end. Of course, some of the fun of the melee came from the alliances made and broken throughout. People would band together to help protect each other until the number of opponents grew few enough that they had to turn on each other. Alistair, Leliana, and Jessimyn came together easily, and even though they hadn't all fought together in ten years, it was like they'd never been apart. It was as if they formed a single being, with Alistair as the body and the women as the arms. He would draw someone in, and they would flank the opponent. As they began, Jessimyn was struck by how much she missed Zevran, how he had completed her in the way Alistair and Leliana did, but no one else ever had since, not even Berton. But she pushed all such thoughts from her mind as the fighting started.

The weapons were blunted, but they were still otherwise real weapons, not wooden like those used during practices. Head and body shots were considered to be killing blows, along with anything that left a person unable to stand. The crowd of fighters was cut in half rather quickly, but then the fighting slowed as everyone danced around each other, never quite knowing who they could trust. However, the three of them fought with confidence, knowing they wouldn't turn on each other until everyone else had fallen. The numbers were slowly whittled away, down to twenty, down to ten, until there were only six of them left. The other three joined together briefly to oppose the three of them, and they launched themselves at each other.

The man who charged at Jessimyn was too large, and he was moving too fast. Jessimyn easily sidestepped him and swung her sword around to catch him on the back, knocking him out of the competition. She turned to see Leliana take a blow to the head. "Blood and damnation," the bard cursed as she collapsed dramatically to the ground. "Avenge me, Jess!" She cried out with a giggle.

Jessimyn advanced on the man who had taken Leliana out. He thrust his sword at her head, trying to use the same move he'd used on Leliana, but she brought up her dagger to block it, his blade skittering off of hers. Jessimyn kicked out with a foot, catching him on the knee and causing him to stumble. She swung her sword, catching him on the back of the head, and he let out a disappointed grunt as he, too, fell to the ground. She turned to see that only she and Alistair were still standing, and the crowds around them suddenly went wild. The officiants of the melee called for a pause while the bodies of the fallen were allowed to get up and exit the field.

"Let's not do this too quickly," Alistair whispered with a grin as they waited for the field to clear. "We should give the people a show. I was thinking... our courting dance?"

Jessimyn laughed. It was the name Oghren had given to the practice routine the two of them had come up with. It was a long series of movements, meant more for stretching and limbering up than actual practice. "I think I remember it," she said with a smile, and he nodded.

As the others moved out of their way, most went up into the stands for a better view, since the recess was hidden from the field. Once everyone was gone, they offered each other a bow, and then the dance began. It started out slow. Swing, block, swing, block. He jabbed with his sword, and she twisted to her right. She then stabbed at him with her dagger, and he twisted left. He swung his sword low at her feet, and she jumped high into the air, somersaulting over his blade. Once upright, though facing away from him, she swung her sword sword backwards in a backhanded fashion, which he caught with his own sword, pushing it to the ground. Jessimyn twisted around to face him, still crouching, in time for him to thrust his shield at her. She rolled onto her back, catching his shield with her feet to push it back.

The crowds roared as she got back to her feet, and she could only imagine that the grin on Alistair's face was mirrored on her own. Swing, block, swing, block, twist, swing, twist, block. Alistair lunged forward, stabbing out with his sword as he went low to the ground, bringing his shield up a little over his head. This was the hard part, but if they could get it right... She jerked back from his swing, and then she launched herself forward, jumping at the last second so that her foot ended up solidly on the shield over his head. He pushed up with his arm as she pushed off with her foot, and Jessimyn tucked her head as she went twisting through the air. She could never manage to land on her feet after that move, but she held her blades out flat, catching herself on her hands enough to roll forward onto her knees. She brought her weapons up over her back, crossing the dagger over the sword just in time to catch the blow he threw at her head. Jessimyn couldn't even hear the sound of the blades hitting each other, the cheering was so loud.

Jessimyn jumped back to her feet, but the choreographed dance was over, and they were now on their own. Alistair gave her a wink, and then they ran at each other for real. The rest of the fight was not quite so dramatic, but when Alistair finally caught her with a solid blow to the chest, she made a good show of falling to the ground. The cheers got louder, if that was even possible, and Alistair reached a hand down to her to help her up. His lips moved as he said something to her, but she couldn't hear what it was. When everyone finally settled down, Alistair had Ellynedra present him the winner's purse, which he then promptly offered to Jessimyn. The bag was leather, closed with a drawstring, but she opened it to reach inside and grab a handful of coins, throwing them into the crowds on the opposite side of the field as the nobles' boxes. When the purse was empty, she threw it into the crowd as well before running off to the recess.

There was no one else still there, but Jessimyn laughed to herself, bouncing up and down as she tossed the blunted weapons into the pile. She was too keyed up to be still, and though her cloak lay on the ground nearby, she didn't need it yet. She turned as Alistair entered behind her, and he looked as energized as she felt. He threw his weapon and shield down before moving forward to catch her around the waist, lifting her up to spin her around.

"That was too much fun," he said with a grin, his cheeks pink from the cold.

Jessimyn let out a laugh. "Boundaries, Alistair," she reminded him.

"Yes," he agreed. "Boundaries. Later." He pulled her forward, kissing her. The kiss was quick, and more friendly than anything else, but it left her breathless. "You didn't have to do that, you know," he said, still grinning at her. "Giving the prize money to the crowd. Like they could love you any more than they already do." Another quick kiss, and then he was gone, leaving Jessimyn feeling a little dizzy.

She gave her head a shake and went to retrieve her cloak. She couldn't be mad at him, not really. The raw emotion of the crowd and the fight had been too much, even for her, and it brought back too many old memories. Pulling the cloak around her, Jessimyn exited the recess to find Leliana waiting for her, a smug smile on her face. "I see I'm not the only performer among us," she said with a giggle. "I remember that little routine." Jessimyn just grinned at her, and the two women headed back to the palace.

Unfortunately, since she was to be considered the "winner"of the melee, since the king couldn't win his own tournament, she once again had to take her seat at Alistair's side at the high table. However, any worries of inappropriate behavior from him were unfounded. He was perfectly polite, not even trying so much as to brush a leg or arm against her as they ate. It suddenly seemed much more comfortable, though, and they spent much of the meal telling stories, reminiscing about their adventures together. A few times one of them would start a story, only to be unable to finish it when they realized the ending was not one suitable for Ellynedra's ears. For her part, Ellynedra was quite proud of her father for winning the melee.

When the meal ended that evening, Alys did not attempt to come forward and take a place at Alistair's side. Jessimyn didn't try to follow him around either, but when she excused herself to go back to her rooms, he kissed her hand, and Ellynedra gave her a hug goodnight.

As Jessimyn lay in her bed that night, trying to fall asleep, she realized that, for the first time, she was seriously considering Alistair's offer. Maybe Alistair was right, maybe what was best for her was to be in a place where she was wanted rather than just where she was needed. She would never _tell _him he was right, though. Oh no. That would likely just go to his head.


	95. Jessimyn Chapter 95

The last two days of the festivities seemed mild, almost boring, after the tourney. There were more performers, jugglers and dancers and musicians, and the feast on the final day outdid all of the ones prior to it, but when Jessimyn woke up the morning after that last day, she actually felt relieved. If she was going to make any decision about staying in Denerim, it would need to be made in a more normal environment. If it were made based on the previous week, she would pack up her things and return to Amaranthine without looking back.

It was a relief to be dressed in her own clothes again. Dresses were fine every once in a while, but they were so inconvenient. She pulled on a thick but short undertunic, then put a blouse and pair of trousers on over them, tucking the pant legs into her boots. She'd been meaning to go to the compound since they arrived in Denerim, but she hadn't had the chance. A fur-lined cloak was pulled around her shoulders, and then Jessimyn headed out of the palace. She kept the hood up as she moved, hoping that she wouldn't be recognized.

The compound was quiet as she entered, but she found many of the men who were living there in the mess hall. They looked up, conversations ceasing as she entered, but then she saw Jakob and went over to him. He was sitting with a group of three young men, probably his latest batch of possibles, but he stood up as she walked over.

"Jess," he said. "It's been too long."

"Much too long." She smiled at him. "I'd like to speak to you in private, if you don't mind," she said, and Jakob nodded.

Together they went to the office. "I've met quite a few of the Grey Wardens you brought with you," he said. "But you're the first one I've seen that I've known. Tell me, is Kyran with you? Or even Zevran?"

"No, they..." Jessimyn shook her head. "Kyran was killed, almost three years ago. Zevran... has gone his own way. He no longer travels with the Grey Wardens."

"Ah," said Jakob, a sad look on his face. "I am sorry to hear that."

"I had heard that you were interested in going to Amaranthine," Jessimyn said, blatantly trying to change the subject.

Jakob smiled at her. "Suppose the king told you that, but yes, it's true. Funny, since I resisted going for so long, but... I don't know. I don't mean to complain, but things here are a little boring. I've never been much of one for training. I'd rather be out recruiting, or part of the scouting trips made throughout Ferelden to investigate rumors of darkspawn. But I can't just leave Denerim."

"Why have you never said anything before?" She asked.

Jakob shrugged. "You left me in charge. I've written to Amaranthine a few times, but the responses have always been that you're gone. I'd wait for you to come by, to pass through, but..." He smiled. "I figured that, after a few years of getting no response, I just needed to accept that this was my place. I mean, I've been here for... what, eight, nine years now? What's another twenty, right?"

"I don't see a reason why you couldn't go to Amaranthine, Jakob," she said. "We should be able to find someone to take over for you here. In fact, why don't you plan on coming back with us when we return in a couple weeks? I think Denerim will be fine until a suitable replacement is found."

He smiled widely at her. "I... yes, I suppose it will be. Thank you, Jess. There are actually a couple possibles I was wanting to send along anyway, so I'll have them ready to leave, too."

As Jessimyn stood up, pulling her cloak back on to head back to the palace, she looked around the office. There were so many memories tied to that place. Were those really memories she wished to stir back up, should she decide to stay? As she left the compound, she realized she wasn't ready to head back to the palace just yet. Instead she headed to the market district. The place was swarming with people, all those who had traveled to the city for the celebration, and she easily blended into the crowd. For a while, she wondered what it would be like to be just another person, no one that anyone knew or recognized, able to come and go as she pleased with no one to notice. In a way, she could understand why Zevran had gone. She could almost be jealous, not only that he'd actually done it, but even just that he had the ability to do it.

And yet there she was, considering the idea of becoming the king's adviser. How would that change things for her? It couldn't possibly make her more recognizable, but would it mean she'd have to go everywhere with a group of guardsmen at her back? Is that what her life would be, always having someone there, watching her? Never a moment alone, never a minute of privacy? The press of the crowd was suddenly overwhelming, and Jessimyn pushed through it, making her way to the outskirts of the market, near the gates. And when she saw the gates, she was seized by a crazy idea. She could just leave.

True, she could go back to Amaranthine, but who could really stop her from going someplace else? She could go with Jenya back to Highever, help her bring it back to some semblance of its former glory. She could go to Antiva. What if Zevran had gone back there? If he was in Antiva City, she could find him, even if it took a while. They had been happy once. Or she could go to the Free Marches, find someone who had known Berton, find out where he had gone to answer the Calling. Her fingers found the pendant around her neck, and she closed her eyes. _Listen to your heart_, he had told her in his letter. But what did her heart have to say?

She'd gotten so good at ignoring her heart, good at locking away any feelings that had the possibility of hurting her, that she'd forgotten what it was like, simply to let herself feel. As she stood there, standing in the middle of a crowd, she slowly peeled away the barriers she'd erected. She stripped away the fear, the anger, the insecurities and worries, and as she stood there, her heart naked, Jessimyn asked herself what it was she really wanted. The answer came to her more easily than she would have thought, but even as the realization of what she would do came to her, the barriers flew back into place. The fear she felt at having an answer to the question seemed to prickle across her skin, but she did her best to ignore it. She knew what she needed to do. It was just a matter of actually following through.

A cold feeling passed through her body, and Jessimyn knew it wasn't just from the cold, though she still drew her cloak as tightly around her as she could. Taking a deep breath, she turned and pushed back through the crowds to the stalls the vendors had set up. There were the typical assortments of things out for sale, but with the celebration, there were so many more merchants out than normal, most selling one useless trinket or another. She found one vendor who claimed to be selling locks of hair that came from the Hero of Ferelden herself! Had she not wanted to keep her anonymity, she would have exposed the man as a fraud. Though really, if anyone was stupid enough to mistake the coarse, black horsehair for hers, perhaps they deserved to lose the copper.

Her nose caught the scent of baked goods, and she found a stall selling all sorts of pastries. Her stomach rumbled, and she pulled a few coppers from her purse to buy a small bag of cookies and a miniature loaf of bread. When she finished them, she went back and bought two more bags of the cookies. Deciding she'd spent enough time there, she went to head back to the palace when something caught her eye. A smile tugged at her lips, and she pulled out her purse again to make the purchase. She couldn't help herself.

Once she was back inside the palace, she pushed the hood of her cloak back, grateful for the heat. Jessimyn was making her way up the stairs when she saw Alistair walking her way. "Oh, there you are," he said.

Jessimyn raised her eyebrows. "Were you looking for me?"

"What? No, I..." He smiled at her. "I think Jenya was this morning."

She nodded. "Oh, then I guess I'll... actually, I..." Why was she suddenly nervous? Jessimyn forced herself to smile. "I was out in the city, and I... got something for Ned."

"Oh?" Alistair gave her a surprised look. "Did you want me to... I mean, she's in our rooms, if you wanted to give it to her."

Jessimyn nodded and followed him back to his sitting room, feeling rather ridiculous about the whole thing. They were just cookies. She could have just given them to him, to give to Ellynedra. She was sitting on the floor, drawing with chalks when they entered. Her nursemaid, Dera, was there as well, though Alistair dismissed her.

"Hi, Dadders," Ellynedra said with a smile when they entered. "Hi, Jess. My dadders beat you in that fight."

"Nedda!" Alistair said, but Jessimyn just laughed.

"He did, you're right," she agreed. "Here, Ned. I have something for you."

The chalks were temporarily forgotten as she jumped up to see what it was, and Jessimyn held out the two bags of sweets. Ellynedra opened up one of them and peered inside. "Cookies!" She giggled before cramming one into her mouth.

"What do you say, Nedda?" Alistair prompted her.

"Oh... thank you," she said, her mouth full.

"You're welcome," Jessimyn said with a smile.

Ellynedra took the cookies and went back to her drawings, though she started shuffling through the pile of finished pictures she had. One in particular was chosen, and she brought it over to Jessimyn. "Here, I drawed this of you," she said.

"You _drew _it," Alistair corrected.

"This is me?" Jessimyn asked, pointing to the figure in the center of the page, and Ellynedra nodded. "Why do I have two faces?" She asked.

Ellynedra pointed at her. "Well, one is your real face, and the other is your other face."

"My other face?" Jessimyn inquired.

"Yeah, this one," Ellynedra said, touching the scars on her face. "It's a face, see? Here are the eyes," she said, tapping two spots on her cheek. "And here's the smile." She ran her finger over the scar just under her jaw.

"Oh, of course," Jessimyn said with a laugh. "I guess I'm pretty lucky, to have two smiles, huh?" Ellynedra just nodded, stuffing another cookie into her mouth, but Alistair looked embarrassed.

"It's fine," she assured him with a smile.

Pleased with herself, Ellynedra turned her attention back to her art. An awkward silence grew between Jessimyn and Alistair, and she removed her cloak, tossing it over the arm of the couch, then sat down next to it. Alistair sat at her side, lounging back with his arm up along the back of the couch, watching her. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together in front of her.

"Is it so hard?" He asked, and she turned her head to look at him. "To be around me?" Alistair smiled at her. "You're going to have to get over that, and the best way is likely that you're just going to have to spend more time with me. You know, to get used to it." When she made no response, the smile slid from his face. "Unless... this is you coming to tell me that you're going to leave. Again."

Jessimyn turned away and grabbed her cloak, reaching for the pocket. She wasn't ready for that conversation yet, and there was only one way she could really distract him. "No, I just... I saw this in the market district, and I thought of... It's silly, but... Oh, here."

She pulled the object from her cloak and thrust it into his hands, not able to meet his eyes. There was a second of silence, and then he was laughing. "You... Oh, Maker..."

"What is it, Dadders?" Ellynedra asked, moving to stand at his side and peer at what he was holding.

"It's... it's a miniature golem doll, Nedda," he said, smiling at Jessimyn. "How did you... I can't believe you even remembered that."

His smile was too much. He was making too big a deal out of it, and Jessimyn stood up abruptly. "I should probably go. I..."

Alistair grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving, giving her a tug so that she had to sit back down on the couch. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "Jess," he said softly. "Why does it embarrass you to be who you are? You've done things like this from the time I met you. You were always giving little things to people, not just to me. I know that this doesn't..." He shook his head. "If you're worried that I'm going to read too much into this, don't." She glanced down at his hand, which still held onto hers, and he smiled. "Though... I suppose we should have that conversation about boundaries?"

But she wasn't ready for that, either. "Later," she said quietly, and his smile turned very soft. "We can talk about that later."

So they sat there in silence for a while. Alistair released her hand, but he kept his close enough to hers that they almost touched. "You know," he said after a moment, his voice quiet so as not to draw Ellynedra's attention, as she had gone back to her drawing. "You said that we can't just pick up where we left off, and I agree with that. But we're not really free to start over, either. Even in the beginning, we were always comfortable around each other. Well, I want to have that again." He lowered his voice even more. "Even if it doesn't end up leading to you devising different ways for me to see you naked so that I'll finally take you up on the offer of sharing your tent."

"I don't know _what _you're talking about," she said with an embarrassed smile.

"Oh, really? You don't remember setting up our watches so that I would have to come wake you up for yours, only to have me find you sleeping in the nude?" He asked, his tone amused.

Jessimyn gave a chuckle. "I... only did that once."

"Well then what about the time you..."

"All right," Jessimyn said, cutting him off. She smiled, shaking her head. "I wasn't used to being told no, and I just thought that maybe you needed a little... encouragement."

"Well, you were definitely encouraging. I'll give you that," said Alistair as he reached to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

Jessimyn pulled back a little. "Maybe... maybe we should have that boundaries discussion after all."

Alistair just nodded. "Very well. Where is the boundary line drawn?"

"I... I don't think you should be touching me," she said.

"At all?" Alistair asked, and Jessimyn nodded. "Well, that's not acceptable."

Jessimyn raised an eyebrow at him. "I typically don't just let people touch me, Alistair."

"But I'm not just any old person," he countered. "I know that we are lovers no longer, but neither are we strangers. How about this. What would you be comfortable with if it were, say, Leliana instead of me? Would you let her hold your hand? Touch your face or hair? Hug you? Kiss you? Of course, the assumption is that all of these would be done in a relatively private setting, done in friendship and not lust."

"I... suppose none of those things would bother me, if Leliana did them," Jessimyn conceded.

Alistair nodded. "Then would those things be allowed between us as well?" When she hesitated, he smiled at her. "Look, I'm not trying to trick you into anything. I'm not looking to take advantage in any way. In fact..." His eyes flickered to his daughter. "I'd also agree to keeping it to things I wouldn't be embarrassed to do in front of Nedda."

Jessimyn closed her eyes for a moment. Why did the thought of him touching her at all bother her so much? Even in the beginning there had been _some_ touching. It was mostly innocent, as when they helped each other with their armor or were aiding each other with injuries. Was she so afraid of a little touch because she didn't want him that close to her? Or was it because she _did _want him close, but she didn't want to admit it? She let out the softest of sighs. "Yes, I... suppose that would be acceptable."

Alistair laughed. "There's no need to sound so resigned about it all. But now that we have that all settled..." He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Thank you for the gift," he whispered.

Jessimyn felt flustered. "Yes, well... I should go. You said Jenya was looking for me. I should probably see what she needed." She stood up. "Bye, Ned."

Ellynedra looked up, her face and dress covered in cookie crumbs. "Bye!"

She was outside Jenya's door when she realized she had left her cloak on Alistair's couch. Well, she had others. Her conversation with Jenya was short, as her sister-in-law just wanted to ask to travel with the Wardens for the first half of the trip. Jessimyn agreed easily. Any additional time with her family was worth any delay they might have from traveling with small children, although she supposed Bryce and Lyla were not quite so small anymore. Leaving Jenya's rooms, Jessimyn went to her own. She stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips, and then with a nod to herself, she went to go pull out her trunk. They weren't set to leave for a couple weeks still, but she could go ahead and start packing up the dresses and other things she wouldn't be wearing again.

She had everything lying out on her bed when Leliana came in. The bard's eyes took in everything, and then she rushed over to Jessimyn. "What are you doing? Are you packing? Does that mean... are you leaving, then?"

"Yes, Leliana. I..."

"But why?" Leliana wailed, cutting her off. "You don't really want to leave. I know you don't. Have you told Alistair? Oh, he will be so disappointed and heartbroken. And what about Nedda?"

"Leliana..."

"And what about _me?_" Leliana said, pouting at her. "I can't believe you would just leave me again. I've missed you so, and I don't want you to go. I want you to stay here and..."

Jessimyn took a step forward, clapping her hand over Leliana's mouth. The bard gave her a surprised look, and Jessimyn smiled. "There. I wasn't sure I could get you to be quiet for a moment. I am leaving, yes, but not as you think. I'm going back to Amaranthine, but... I'm going to collect my things, to bring them back here. I've decided to accept Alistair's offer."

Leliana squealed and threw her arms around Jessimyn. "Oh, you're staying? That is wonderful news!" She leaned back, her hands on Jessimyn's shoulders. "Does Alistair know? Have you told him yet?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "I... no. It's strange, but I feel more nervous telling him this than if I had told him I was leaving. I don't know why."

Leliana just gave her a grin. "Well, then... _I _could tell him for you. But only if I can play a little game with him first. Make him think you're leaving, just to see what his reaction would be, and _then _give him the good news."

Jessimyn smiled. "You're a cruel woman, Leliana."

"Is that a yes?" Leliana asked.

With a chuckle, Jessimyn nodded. "Yes, fine, do whatever you wish."

Leliana clapped her hands together. "Ooh, I'm going to go tell him now," she said, and then she was gone.

Jessimyn shook her head. She wasn't sure how she felt about Leliana toying with Alistair about the whole thing, but she was able to overlook that if it meant she didn't have to be the one to tell him. It was cowardly, but it was also easy. She continued packing her dresses. She wouldn't be taking them back with her to Amaranthine, of course, but she figured she could move them to the compound, or to whatever rooms she would be given to stay in permanently in the palace. Once everything was packed that could be packed, she sat on the edge of the bed. Had she made the right decision, she wondered, but then she pushed the doubt away. The decision was made. Now she just had to find some way to make it work.


	96. Alistair & Jessimyn Chapter 96

Alistair

Alistair noticed Jessimyn had left her cloak almost as soon as the door closed behind her, but he didn't go to call to her, to tell her she'd forgotten it. It was extremely childish, he knew, but he wanted her to have to come back later for it. Or it would perhaps give him an excuse to go to her rooms. It was strange, but it almost seemed to him like they had reversed roles. When they had first met, Jessimyn had been the aggressor, and he had been the one to flee at the first sign of anything happening between them, physical or otherwise. Now he was the one left wanting more, while she ran away.

With a frown, Alistair wondered what, exactly, it was that he wanted from her, though. Did he just want to sleep with her? Surely there was more to his desire than just that. After all, he'd already decided he was going to ask her to be his adviser before he ever even saw her again. Before he went to Amaranthine, his thoughts had been consumed by Alys, but then just seeing Jessimyn again made him forget about the woman waiting back in Denerim for him. He doubted she could have had that affect on him, if all he felt was a little lust. Besides, if his fascination for her was purely physical, seeing her with Ellynedra wouldn't pull at him the way it did.

Not for the first time, though, Alistair wondered if it was a mistake to ask her to stay. If she had that sort of affect on him now, how would it be once they became closer, once they were friends again? He would have to marry again eventually, but how could he expect to find a new wife with his thoughts focused on Jessimyn? How could he ask her to advise him on who would make an appropriate match? He didn't want to marry another Lyrina, another woman he took advantage of and mostly ignored because he couldn't get over the woman who had been his first love. He thought that, in the years since Fergus' death, he had managed it all, had managed to put Jessimyn behind him, but now he wasn't sure if that was really the case. What if he still...

There was a knock at the door, and Alistair jumped up from the couch. Eldryn came out of his room, but Alistair waved him away, going to the door himself. When he opened the door, he smiled, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved that it wasn't Jessimyn standing there. "Leliana," he said. "Come in."

Ellynedra jumped up and ran to the woman. "Leliana! Did you come to sing to me?"

Leliana laughed. "Not right now, Nedda. Sorry. I actually came to talk to your father." Ellynedra nodded, a disappointed look on her face. Leliana ruffled her hair, and the little girl went back to her drawing. Alistair gestured for Leliana to sit, and she seemed to notice the cloak as she sat down. "Is that Jess' cloak?" She asked.

Alistair nodded as he sat next to Leliana. "Yes, uh... she was here not long ago, and she forgot it."

Leliana was giving him one of her smiles that seemed to imply that she knew something he didn't. "Would you like me to take it back to her?"

"No," Alistair said, too quickly. "I mean, she'll probably be back for it. Or I'll take it to her later. There's no need to trouble yourself."

Leliana's expression changed, suddenly become very serious and somber. "She may be needing it fairly soon. I've just come from her room, where she was packing up her things to head back to Amaranthine."

It was a good thing he was sitting down because it felt like something fell out of him. "She... she's leaving? But she was just here, and she didn't say anything to me about it." Had he asked too much of her? Had he been too forward? He felt a flash of anger. "Was she even going to tell me, or was she just planning to leave again without any word? Andraste's flaming sword, why would she..."

"You're upset," Leliana said, cutting him off.

"Of course I am," he said. "She doesn't even have the decency to tell me herself?"

"Is that the only reason you're upset?" Leliana asked.

He gave her an irritated look. "No, it's not the only reason. You know I wanted her to stay. Just as much as you do."

The smallest smile crept across the bard's face. "I think maybe you want it a _little _more than I do." He frowned at her, but she kept speaking. "You were quite taken with Alys, before you saw Jess again. I know you weren't pleased with what her family tried to do, but you didn't send her away then. Yet now that Jess has been in Denerim for less than a month, you tell Alys to go back to Oswin."

Alistair shook his head, not at all liking where Leliana was going. "My sending Alys away has nothing to do with Jess. I... don't think she would make a fitting queen, and it seemed cruel to lead her on if I was sure I wasn't going to marry her. Unlike you, I don't have the luxury of being able to have casual relationships. Besides, I... knew there was a possibility that Jess wouldn't be staying here. My decision about Alys was made before I knew what Jess had decided. And knowing that she'll be... leaving, it doesn't make me change my mind about sending Alys back to Oswin." He looked away.

"Did I mention Jess is only going back to Amaranthine in order to pack up her things and bring them back here? Apparently she's decided to accept your offer," Leliana said, and he whipped his head around to look at her.

"What? So... She's staying, then? But why did you let me think she was going?" Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. "Is this some sort of bad joke?"

"I do not make _bad _jokes," Leliana said with a smile. "If it had been a joke, you would be laughing right now. No, rather I wanted to see what your reaction would be to the news."

"Why?" He asked, still irritated. "Because you're a mean, horrible person?"

Leliana giggled. "Some might say that, yes. But really, it was more because I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity."

"About what?" Alistair asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

She smiled at him. "About what I think your real reasons are for wanting her to stay here."

Alistair sighed. "Look, Leliana. I normally don't mind your nosy, meddling ways. They've often served me well, in fact. But in this, I'm going to have to ask you to stay out of it. Or at least I'll ask that you don't try to push either of us. Maybe there's more of a reason there, and maybe there isn't. Either way, I think that's something that should be decided between Jess and me, without any outside... help."

Leliana's smile just seemed to widen at that. "I'll try not to interfere too much, then." She stood up. "But she really is staying."

Alistair kept his face blank, though he stood up as well. "She didn't want to tell me herself?

"I asked if I could tell you," Leliana admitted. "I told her I wanted to toy with you a little."

Alistair grunted. "You're both mean and horrible. So this was her idea, too?"

Leliana shook her head. "Not exactly, no. Like I said, it was mostly for my own curiosity. Not that it's changed the opinion I already had, though." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Be happy," she said. "I am. Our Jess will be with us once again."

When she was gone, Alistair sat back down, shaking his head. Between Leliana and Jessimyn, he wasn't sure which of them gave him the bigger headache. But then he was smiling, a wide, goofy grin. She was staying.

"What's so funny, Dadders?" Ellynedra asked him. "Why are you smiling like that?"

He picked her up and gave her a hug. "I'm just happy, Nedda. Your dadders is very happy."

Jessimyn

The trip back to Amaranthine went fairly quickly, despite the cold. Jandin seemed to spend quite a bit of time around Jenya's tent in the evenings, and Jessimyn wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. But they were both adults, and they could do as they wished. When the two groups finally parted, when Jenya's party had to break off to continue on their way to Highever, everyone pretended not to notice the lengthy goodbyes between them. Jessimyn had a feeling that Jandin wouldn't stay in Amaranthine long, that he would be out recruiting again soon, and that recruiting would probably take him to the Highever area.

When they finally got back, Jessimyn went to Herich first. She hadn't told anyone what her decision was yet, other than Leliana. Of course, Leliana had passed on the news to Alistair. He had gone to her rooms late one evening, to return her cloak he claimed. When he had her confirm that she was, in fact, going to be returning to Denerim, he had hugged her. The comfort she found in his arms very nearly made her change her mind. She had made him leave after that, told him she was tired and had a lot to do to get ready for her trip. It just seemed like the decision she'd made would have been easier to keep if he didn't seem so damned happy about the whole thing.

Herich did not approve of her choice. The Grey Wardens were supposed to be independent of their country and crown, after all. It was bad enough that the king was a Grey Warden, but to have another Grey Warden as adviser...

"He's always... done well by us," Jessimyn said. "He has never tried to interfere in what we're doing here."

"Ah," said Herich. "But if you are there in Denerim, in the palace, you will no longer be a part of us here. You will not be part of that _we _anymore. He is the king, and he will do what is in the best interest of Ferelden, as he should. But what about you? If he asks for your advice on something that may affect us here, how will you advise him? Is your ultimate loyalty to the king, or to the Grey Wardens?"

But she had answered that question years ago, hadn't she? "I am a Grey Warden first, before anything else," she answered.

Herich didn't seem convinced. "And is the king aware of that?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. "He is well aware."

Herich just sighed. "Obviously I can't tell you what to do. If this is your decision, then so be it. But you will no longer be in charge here in any way. We will keep you informed of anything going on in Ferelden, same as we've always done for the king, but we will make our own decisions. You may offer your opinions, of course, but you will have to realize that ultimately it is left to us, not you." He gave her a searching look. "Is this because of Berton? Do you wish to leave because he is no longer here? I'll admit, you haven't been quite the same since he left."

The question took her by surprise, and it took a moment before she could respond. "I... think Denerim is where I need to be right now."

It wasn't an answer to his question, not really, but Herich didn't press it. "About the compound... since Jakob has come here, we will need to send someone else to take charge."

"I will be taking over," Jessimyn said.

"No," Herich answered. "You cannot do that on top of your new... duties."

"I can and I will," she said. "I've been in charge there before. I know what it entails. There's no reason to send someone else there when I am more than capable of running it."

It didn't seem like Herich was in the mood to argue. "Fine. But we will expect the same from you as we did from Jakob. If you are unable to do that, we will be forced to send someone else to take over."

"Fine," she agreed.

Herich looked at Jessimyn for a while, and then he smiled at her. "We'll miss you, Jessimyn. It won't be the same here without you."

The announcement that she was leaving was made at dinner that night, and over the next few days, she made her goodbyes. It was most difficult with her Junior Wardens. There were others who had been helping train them, others who would take over in her absence, but it still hurt to have to leave them. She knew she would miss Maura a lot, too, although the woman made her promise to return at least once a year for new clothes. All she would have to do is send instructions for what she wanted made. Finally, she had everything packed up and ready to go. It surprised her just how little she actually had in the way of physical possessions. Most of what she had packed was clothing of some sort.

Alistair had sent two guardsmen back with her, so that she wouldn't have to travel back to Denerim on her own but also to help transport her things. She probably could have made do with only one, but then traveling alone with a strange man might have been a bit uncomfortable, even considering the short distance between Denerim and Amaranthine. Conversations were strained, though, as the guardsmen didn't seem to know what to think of her. No matter what she did, their talk would cease or lower to an inaudible level whenever she came near, and she often caught them watching her out of the corner of her eye. They only spoke to her when necessary, and it made for a very long trip.

They were probably two or three days away from Denerim when Jessimyn was awakened one night by a noise. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes, when she felt a hand grab her by the hair and haul her to her feet. She clawed at the hand, kicking with her feet, but another hand grabbed her tightly around the waist, lifting her up off of the ground.

"Looks like we've got a feisty one here," said a voice in her ear as she was dragged out of her tent.

When they got outside, Jessimyn was shoved by the person who had been holding her, and she stumbled and fell to her knees. One of the guardsmen, Jamis, was lying on the ground unconscious, his face covered with blood. The other, Malcolm, was kneeling uncomfortably in front of two men who were tying him up. A third stranger was going through their bags, so the one at her back made four.

"Bandits," Jessimyn whispered to herself, giving her head a shake. "Really?"

The third man, the one who was picking through their things, looked up. He narrowed his eyes and strode over to her, grabbing her hard around the wrist. "Where's the gold?" He demanded, his fingers pressing into her arm hard enough to leave bruises.

"There's no gold," she said carefully.

His gauntlet caught her across the mouth, and she fell to her side, stars dancing in front of her eyes. Jessimyn winced as she reached up to touch her face, the taste of blood in her mouth. "That's what these other idiots said," the man yelled at her. "But we don't believe you. You're traveling with the king's guards, _my lady_," he barked, the title said with as much scorn as possible. "So where is it? Gold, jewels, everything you have. Give it to us, or we'll be forced to take something else..."

"Don't hurt me," she whimpered. "Please don't hurt me. I'll... everything I have is in my tent. I'll get it for you, just please..." She tried to glance at the man, to see if he was buying her act.

He just smiled at her, an ugly sneer. "Good, that's better." He nodded to the man standing behind her. "Go with her."

Jessimyn stood, doing her best to seem like she was cowering from them as she went back into her tent, the man following behind her. It was still dark, and she was hoping he wouldn't be able to see very well as she went to her things. "You'll have to help," she said softly. "It's... heavy."

She gestured as if she was trying lift a box, and the man came over to her. When he was close enough, she turned, pulling the dagger from where it was hidden, thrusting the tip up and through the man's neck. It was a much more gruesome death than she would have liked, especially done in her own tent, but it was the only way she could ensure that he wouldn't call out. Still, he made some gurgling noises as he slumped to the ground.

"What's going on in there?" The man who was likely the leader asked. "I hope you're not... manhandling the lady," he added, and she heard the other two men laughing.

With a yank, she freed her dagger, then grabbed for her sword. "The trunks are too heavy," she called out, hoping they would think nothing was amiss with her speaking and not the man who lay bleeding on the ground. "We need some help."

But then, she was just a helpless noblewoman in their eyes, and she heard feet shuffling her way. Jessimyn moved to stand at the side of the tent flap and waited. She was only just in place when it was lifted back, and the man who had been doing all the speaking stepped in. Jessimyn wasted no time, stabbing him solidly in the stomach.

"You... bitch..." He gasped out, reaching for his own weapon, but she threw a backhanded slash with her dagger, catching him across the throat, and he collapsed to the ground.

The other two men were not far behind him, but they stopped short, faces frozen. She held her weapons up, taking a step forward, but then the men went running off into the night. "Cowards," she muttered to herself before going over to check on her companions. Her blade cut through Malcom's restraints easily, but he was giving her a fearful look. Jessimyn ignored it, going over to check on Jamis. She felt his face, his neck, checked the wound at the back of his head.

"Is he..." Malcolm asked at her back.

"Dead," Jessimyn said with a sigh. "Yes. Maker damn it." She rounded on Malcolm. "Who was supposed to be on watch?"

"Jamis, he..." Malcolm began.

Jessimyn set a hand on the guardsman's arm. "I suppose it doesn't really matter now. Come on. The sun's almost up anyway. Let's get our things and get moving. I'd hate for those two to go find some friends and come back."

"But... shouldn't we go after them?" Malcolm asked, and Jessimyn shook her head.

"You can tell the king what happened when we get to Denerim. Maybe he'll want to send a larger group out, but it would be foolish for just the two of us to do it." She didn't mention that the main reason she didn't want to go after the fleeing bandits was because she didn't trust the man to have her back.

Jessimyn ducked back into her tent without another word, changing out of her nightgown and into her armor quickly before throwing her things outside. After a small hesitation, she went to tear down Jamis' tent, deciding she would take it with her instead of her own, as the two bodies which were currently inhabiting her tent had made a bit of a mess. Malcolm watched her but didn't say anything, and they were ready to move as soon as the sun peaked up over the horizon. They pushed hard that day, and by the time they stopped for the night, Jessimyn realized they would be back in Denerim by the end of the following day, assuming they were able to keep the same pace.

Water was put over the fire to boil, and Jessimyn handed Malcolm a cup. He looked up at her, his eyes still a little afraid. "You just... you just killed them," he said, the first words he'd spoken since they left camp that morning. "You killed them, and it's like you don't even..."

"What else was I supposed to do?" She asked. "They weren't going to be happy when they realized we really didn't have anything worth stealing. Should I have just let them rape me? Kill us both? What else could I have done?"

Malcolm looked down at the cup in his hand, a miserable look on his face. "I just froze. I couldn't... I've never killed a man before, and I..." He looked up at her. "I just let Jamis die. I couldn't even protect you."

Jessimyn patted his hand gently. "I'm not some helpless person, incapable of taking care of myself. Alistair... His Majesty probably would have sent more people, were that the case."

"The king..." Malcolm moaned miserably. "He'll probably have me killed anyway."

Jessimyn sighed. "No, he won't," she said. "Drink your tea, then go get some sleep." Why would Alistair have sent such inexperienced men with her, she wondered. But then, they weren't really supposed to be much more than glorified porters anyway.

They were up early the next morning as well, and they reached the gates of the city near sundown. Jessimyn followed Malcolm right up to the palace before realizing she had meant to go to the compound first. But she was suddenly too weary to change course, and it would be much easier to get a hot bath in the palace than elsewhere, so she continued on. Malcolm left her at the door to the apartments that were to be hers in the palace, should she choose to stay there. She tried to soothe him, but it was clear the man was nervous as he turned to leave, to go make his report to the king. Jessimyn caught a servant and told her to prepare a bath for her before she went into her room.

Once inside, she stopped cold. The rooms had been mostly empty when she'd left Denerim, as they'd been used by Eamon and Isolde for years, and the two of them had taken most of their things with them when they left. It was no longer empty, though. The sitting room had been filled with furniture, a rug, even some small vases filled with snowdrops. It was made up... to look just like her rooms in Highever. The bags slid from her hands, as she looked around. The fabrics of the chairs were different, of course, though nearly the same color as what she'd had. Jessimyn crossed the room to open the door at the far end of the room, which opened into the main bedchamber, and sure enough, it was the same as well. There was the large, four poster bed, a dressing table, a large mirror. The hearth wasn't in quite the same place, but everything was arranged just so, and it was obviously not a coincidence.

She'd just gone back into the sitting room when the door flew open, and Alistair strode in. "The guardsman told me," he began. "Maker, are you..."

"Did you do this?" She asked, gesturing vaguely with her hands. "Did you..." She turned her head. "It's just like Highever." When she turned back around to face him, Alistair was standing closer to her.

"I... wanted you to have something that felt like home," he said softly.

"But how did you even remember... you were only ever in my rooms once..." she began.

Alistair gave her an embarrassed smile. "Well... I have to admit, that evening is burned into my memory. It's not one I'll soon forget." He reached out and touched the side of her face, which she was sure was turning a light shade of pink. But then he frowned at the cut on her bottom lip, the faint bruising on her jaw. "Are you all right? Malcolm said you..."

"The face is the worst of it," she said, looking away. "And it had to be the face, didn't it?" Alistair's only response was to wrap his arms lightly around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. For once, Jessimyn didn't pull away. "Thank you," she said in a quiet voice as she leaned her head against his chest. "For all of this."

After a little while, Alistair took a step back, his hands on her shoulders. "Jess, I..."

But whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jessimyn went to open it, and a serving woman stood outside. "My lady, your..." And then she let out a little _eep _sound and dropped into a curtsy. "Your Majesty, I... was just coming to inform her ladyship that her bath was ready..."

"And you have succeeded in your task," Alistair said with a little smile. "You are dismissed, then." He turned back to Jessimyn when the woman was gone, and his mouth moved as if trying to find the right words. But then he just smiled. "Go have your bath, Jess. We can talk in the morning."

When he was gone, she gave her head a little shake. She didn't want to think about Alistair right then. All she wanted to do was take a hot bath, then crawl into bed. A bed in a room that almost felt like home.


	97. Jessimyn Chapter 97

"No, Ned. You need to hold the shield up higher. Higher. Like this." Jessimyn stood behind Ellynedra, leaning down to position the little girl's arms.

"But it's too heavy like that," Ellynedra protested as Jessimyn moved back around to face her.

Jessimyn crouched down so that she was on one knee in front of the princess. She held her own shield in front of her, as well as a padded sword she'd made similar to the ones she'd used in Amaranthine. Ellynedra's practice weapons were wooden. "Now try to hit me," Jessimyn said with a smile. "Remember what I've shown you."

Ellynedra screwed up her face as she always did when she was trying to concentrate, and then she lunged. Jessimyn moved her shield to block, her own practice sword held loosely in her hand. She only brought it up when Ellynedra dropped her shield, giving her a soft poke in the shoulder. "Good," she said. "Good. Keep your shield up." Poke. "Lift it up. Good."

The drills took time, but Ellynedra stayed focused. She was always good about that, though she had a tendency to get a little grumpy towards the end of the practice, as she got tired. It was then that she made mistakes, and she didn't like being called on them. Still, she'd come a long way in the months that they'd been practicing. They had started up as soon as the weather had warmed enough for Alistair to agree to let Ellynedra out into the yards. Now it was well into summer, and they had a schedule of practicing four times a week. They often had an audience, mostly made up of off-duty guardsmen. But as the months had passed, Jessimyn found there seemed to be another group of people who liked to come watch.

Many nobles, men and women, seemed to find reason to come and watch their practices when they were in Denerim. Jessimyn knew it wasn't because they were really interested in the sparring but rather because they seemed to know it was a chance to get an impromptu audience with her. And as Jessimyn was running Ellynedra through her final stretches, she glanced over at the man standing nearby, dressed in silks that were much too fine for the practice yards. He gave her a little nod.

"All right, Ned," Jessimyn said. "I think we're done for today."

Ellynedra took her sword and shield and placed them on the little rack that held her equipment. Then Jessimyn helped her out of her padded suit of armor, which the princess wore over a shirt and a pair of loose breeches. Once the things were put away, Jessimyn sent Ellynedra off with one of the guardsmen, who would take her back to her rooms.

"Bye, Jess!" Ellynedra called to her as she was being led away.

Jessimyn finally turned her attention to the nobleman, but he was already walking towards her, so she stood where she was and waited. "My lady," he said with a curt bow as he stood at her side. "I am Lord Brin." Then he waited for her to show some sort of recognition at his name. They always waited for that.

"A pleasure, Lord Brin," she said, and that seemed to do. Then came the painful part, where the noble would make all sorts of small talk, trying to build up to what he really wanted to speak about. She'd found no way to get around it, as the few times she'd actually demanded for the noble speaking to her to get to the point, they'd been horribly offended. So she waited, smiling and nodding at the appropriate parts, waiting for him to just say what he wanted to say.

"...anyway," Lord Brin continued, after prattling on for a while. "The reason I've come to you today is because of my daughter, Lady Sayra. Have you ever met her? Lovely girl, pretty as a flower. Looks a bit like our late queen, she does. And I thought, if she was given the chance to meet the king, spend some time with him..."

And there it was. It was fast becoming the most common reason she was approached, but it never failed to repulse her a little, the way the nobles would try to barter away their daughters, sisters, and nieces for a chance at the crown.

Jessimyn held up her hand, stopping the verbal diarrhea that was pouring from the man's mouth. "I'm sure your Sayra is lovely," Jessimyn said. "And I know that the king has been without a queen for nearly five years now. But you must know that Ellynedra is his heir. The king may well wish to marry again, but only to a woman who is aware and accepting of this fact."

Not everyone appreciated her bluntness, but Jessimyn saw it as saving everyone a lot of trouble. She hadn't realized that, when she agreed to the position of adviser, she would also be performing as the king's matchmaker as well. Not that Alistair pushed it on her, of course. In fact, the whole thing didn't seem to sit well with him at all. It didn't really sit well with her, either, but apparently it was something Eamon had done before her, and everyone just assumed the new adviser would have just as much interest in getting the king married off as the old one had. Most offers seemed to disappear as soon as they heard that their daughters, sisters, or nieces would not be the mothers of the next king or queen. It disgusted her to no end, that so many would assume Alistair would just cast Ellynedra aside.

"Oh, well, of course," said Lord Brin, but he was already taking a step back. "As well it should be," he added, though the disappointment was clear on his face. "Well, I'm sure you have other things to attend to, so I will take no more of your time."

Jessimyn sighed as she watched the man walk away. But she gave him as little further thought as she gave any of the others who came to her, only to run away when they heard something they didn't like. She turned and made her way into the palace. Alistair was to hold court in a few hours, and she needed to wash up and change. When she made it to her rooms, Leliana was waiting outside.

"There you are," Leliana said with a smile. "I saw Nedda coming back from the practice yards, and I figured you had to be back soon as well."

Leliana followed Jessimyn inside her room, taking a seat as Jessimyn went to go wash her face. She hadn't been wearing armor, but she had to discard the shirt and trousers she'd been wearing for more "court appropriate" garb. In fact, her clothing had been the cause of one of her first arguments with Alistair. He felt that, when she was performing in an official capacity, she should be in a dress. Jessimyn disagreed. A compromise had finally been reached, which had led to Jessimyn sending instructions and a good deal of coin back to Amaranthine, to have Maura make her a few things. That hadn't made him very happy, as he pointed out that there were plenty of seamstresses in Denerim, and she was only doing it to delay the inevitable, but he finally relented. It had taken almost two months, but she had been provided with a number of pairs of trousers with wide, full legs. They could almost be mistaken for skirts when she wasn't walking. Of course, Maura had still made them tighter than necessary across the hips, but for some reason, Alistair hadn't minded _that_ too much.

When Jessimyn came back to the sitting room, Leliana stood up and went into her bedchamber. Jessimyn raised an eyebrow, but then Leliana was returning, a brush and some hairpins in hand. "Leliana, really," Jessimyn protested. "My hair is fine."

"In that, you are wrong," Leliana said with a giggle. "Now sit down." Jessimyn rolled her eyes but did as requested, and Leliana began brushing out her hair. "I don't know if you know, but Nedda's birthday is coming up soon. I had something in mind, and I was hoping you would help me with it."

Jessimyn frowned. "What exactly are you planning?"

Leliana set the brush aside and began twisting her hair up off of the back of her neck. "Just a little performance that I think she would like. I'm going to write her a song, and..."

"I'm not singing," Jessimyn said bluntly. "You know quite well that I can't sing."

Leliana giggled. "Yes, I am well aware of that. No, I'll be singing the song, but I was hoping you could help me in other ways." She explained her idea quickly.

Jessimyn groaned. "You can't be serious," she said. "That sounds... awful."

"But... it's not like we'd have to do it in front of a lot of people. Just Nedda... and Alistair, of course," Leliana said as she began placing the pins in Jessimyn's hair to hold it in place. "Oh, say yes. I can't do it by myself. You know Nedda would love it."

"There are a lot of things Ned would love that wouldn't require me to make a fool of myself," Jessimyn protested, reaching up to touch her hair. Leliana handed her a small mirror, a triumphant look on her face. "All right," Jessimyn conceded. "You were right about the hair." She stood up. "I need to meet with Alistair before court. I'll... think about your ideas, but I promise nothing."

Court was held in the main hall, but she always met with Alistair in one of the small meeting rooms beforehand, to go over what issues were being brought forth that day. When she got to the room, he was already there, some papers spread in front if him. He looked up from where he was sitting, and she went to take a seat at his side. Over the past few months, they had grown more comfortable around each other, but it was still those private meetings before court that agitated her the most. It was still difficult to be alone with him. Most of their other meetings were done in his rooms, with Ellynedra present. True, that made the setting a little more intimate, but at least they were not alone.

"What do we have today?" She asked, peering at the papers in front of him.

Alistair put a hand on the back of her chair as he pushed the papers over to where she could see them. "A land dispute. Charges brought against a supposed poacher. The usual."

Jessimyn nodded, scanning the paper in front of her. "Doesn't it ever get old?" She asked him. "I mean, it seems like it's the same thing, week after week."

Alistair laughed. "You've been doing this now for, what? Four months? Is it five now? And you're already bored?" He shook his head. "Yes, it can seem a little repetitive at times, but only for us. For the people coming before us, this is a big, important thing. I try to remember that, and it makes it easier to put my full attention on each issue." He smiled at her. "So how was Nedda's training this morning? I wish I could make it out to watch more often."

"She did well," Jessimyn answered. "Her arms are definitely getting stronger, but she's still having some trouble with her shield. I'm thinking about switching her to two weapons, to see if she does better there."

Alistair frowned. "I think I'd like her to stick with the shield for a little while longer. I know dual wielding is your preference, but... it just seems more dangerous to me."

"Very well," Jessimyn said evenly. She had long since learned not to argue with him about Ellynedra. He didn't like it, and she never won anyway. "I had another hopeful father come see me today, too," she added, knowing that would irritate him. She wasn't disappointed.

"Maker, they're like vultures," he complained. "And did you scare that one off as easily as all of the others?"

"He certainly did leave rather quickly, once I mentioned Ned," she said.

Alistair scoffed. "They always do. It really sickens me, the way they expect me to treat my daughter."

Jessimyn smiled a little. She couldn't help it. "Maybe you should make some sort of proclamation that you're not interested in a young, virgin bride. That you'd be more interested in an old widow, preferably one with a few children of her own."

Alistair gave her a look. "What... someone like Jenya?"

"Well..." Jessimyn wasn't sure how to respond to that. Someone like Jenya _would _be a good match, though Jenya herself would not, considering it was her late husband who killed his late wife. But was he agreeing with her general idea, which she had sort of meant as a joke, or was he interested in Jenya herself? She'd never noticed anything there, but...

"Jess," said Alistair, a smile on his face, and she focused on him. "You sort of went away there for a moment. Seems you didn't like that idea at all." Now he was grinning, and Jessimyn pursed her lips. Alistair reached up, laying his hand on top of hers. "Look, maybe I've never actually spelled this out before, but... I don't really want to get married right now. I know that is apparently a difficult thing for people to understand, but..." He ran his fingers back and forth over the back of her hand. "I'm happy the way things are."

She couldn't meet his eyes. "You may think that now, but..."

"If that changes," he said. "I'll let you know." He moved his hand around underneath hers, so that his fingers twined with hers. "But should the day ever come where I decide I want to marry again, I'll take it upon myself to find my own wife." His voice became soft as he continued. "My last marriage was arranged for me, as you'll recall, and... it didn't turn out so well."

Jessimyn could feel the panic rising in her, and she wanted to jerk her hand away from him and run for the door. Her issue with him touching her wasn't just a matter of appropriateness. He made her feel a little out of control, and she didn't like that. But perhaps what bothered her the most was that he was much more aggressive than she remembered him to be, and that boldness reminded her too much of Berton.

"Why are you scared of me?" He asked.

"I'm not... scared," she replied, cursing her voice for its slight waver. "I'm just not sure it's appropriate, for a king and his adviser to be so... friendly." It was a weak excuse, but she wasn't comfortable sharing her other reasons.

"So then stop being my adviser for the next... half hour or so before court starts, and I'll stop being king, and we'll just be us." Alistair smiled at her. "Not every conversation we have has to involve business, you know."

"I know that," Jessimyn said, forcing herself to look at him.

"In fact, there are some things, personal things, that I've wanted to talk to you about, but I'm never sure how to bring them up. You're still very skittish around me, and I'd like that to change." He gave her hand a squeeze, and then he released it. "Will you come to my rooms tonight after dinner, after Nedda is in bed. Maybe if we can get some of these things out in the open, we'll be more comfortable around each other."

"I..." Jessimyn took a deep breath. "Very well."

Alistair gave her a warm smile, and then it was back to business. Court seemed to drag by, and Jessimyn tried to force herself to pay attention, but her mind wouldn't stay focused. The rest of the day passed by in a blur, and once the sun went down, she went to knock on Alistair's door. Eldryn showed her in, telling her that the king was putting his daughter to bed, but he should be back soon. He poured her a drink, and then he disappeared into one of the side rooms. Jessimyn just played with the glass, waiting for Alistair to return.

"Ah, you're here," he said as he entered the sitting room. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's fine," she managed as he sat next to her. "So... what did you want to talk about?"

"You just want to jump right in, then? No polite chitchat to start off with? No, I suppose not." Alistair looked at her for a moment before he spoke again. "I want to talk about Fergus."

Jessimyn looked away. "What about him?"

"For the past five years," he began. "I've wondered why, why you did what you did. I've wondered why you stood as my champion, why you felt that was your duty, and why you ran off afterward. I want to know what happened to you, between the time when you left here and when you finally showed up in Amaranthine."

Taking a deep breath, Jessimyn answered the last question first. "When I left Denerim, I was in shock, I think. I wasn't really thinking straight, but what I did know was that I had to leave. Luckily for me, Berton caught up with me outside the city. He... took care of me when I couldn't even function on my own, and he accompanied me when I told him I needed to go to Highever." She realized she was fingering the pendant at her neck and dropped her hand into her lap. "I didn't know what was to happen to Jenya and the children, but I wanted to see them. As for what happened in the Landsmeet... I saw what I did as my only choice."

"But why?" Alistair asked.

"Because I had to take a side," she replied, her eyes on her hands. "I had to choose between him and... you, I suppose. I had to prove to myself that I knew what was right. If I had just stood by while someone else fought for you, it would have proved nothing. I had to show that I took responsibility for my part in everything that happened. But also, as I said that day, I had to keep Fergus from being the one to define the Cousland name. If he had died that day at someone else's hand, it would have only shown that he was wrong. In order to redeem myself and my family, it had to be at _my _hand."

Alistair lifted a knee up, then put a hand on her waist, drawing her towards him so that they were sitting on the couch with her between his knees, her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I would have done anything to keep that pain from you. I wish that I had done more, that I had tried harder to stop you."

Jessimyn shook her head. "I'm not sure you could have. What happened was what needed to happen."

He was silent for a moment, and then she felt his fingers slide across her upper chest to lift the pendant up where he could see it. "Is this... was this Berton's? I've... noticed you touch it whenever you speak of him." His voice was careful, full of caution. She nodded. "And... since you no longer seem to have your own pendant, I assume you gave yours to him?" Jessimyn nodded again. "He was... special to you, then?"

"He was." Jessimyn closed her eyes. There was no way she could truly describe her relationship with Berton, not when she had never really understood it herself, so she told him what she had told Zevran. "He was my Duncan. He was there for me when I needed him."

Alistair's arms tightened around her. "I see. I'm sorry. Not that he was..." She felt him shake his head. "I'm glad you had someone. I just wish... well, that hardly matters now." His fingers brushed the side of her neck. "Was it hard, to see him go? I've often wondered how I would have felt, had Duncan not died at Ostagar, if I'd had to watch him leave for the Deep Roads."

Jessimyn took a few breaths. She hadn't talked about this with anyone, hadn't wanted to think of it. She still didn't want to talk, and yet... she and Alistair had once been close. They had once been able to tell each other everything. Jessimyn realized she missed that, realized she needed someone she could be close to again. So she told him all of the things she'd thought but had never voiced. "I feel broken, Alistair. I feel like I've lost pieces of me, from when my parents died, when Morrigan left, when I... had to leave you so you could marry someone else. From when Fergus died, and when Kyran died, and when Zevran left. But when each of those things happened, I had someone. Most of the time it was that I had someone else who needed _me_, who forced me to be strong. But when Berton left, it was like I was suddenly alone."

She felt his head move back, and then his fingers were kneading the back of her neck. "Is that why you came back here?" Alistair asked her. "Is that why you stayed in Denerim?"

"Yes," she said, tilting her head down, allowing his hands to ease some of the tension she was feeling. "As much as I miss being in Amaranthine, it didn't really feel like home anymore, without Kyran and Zevran and Berton there."

His fingers moved to her shoulders. "And does it feel like home here?" He asked, his voice gentle.

"More so every day," she replied, and his arms were around her again, pulling her close as he kissed her cheek. They remained like that for a while before Jessimyn finally pulled away from him to sit up straight. "I should probably be going," she said.

Alistair walked her to the door, and then he leaned towards her just a little. Jessimyn stiffened, thinking he was going to try to kiss her. Either she was wrong, or he saw her reaction and changed his mind. He took her hand instead, lifting it up to kiss her knuckles. "Good night, Jess."


	98. Alistair Chapter 98

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've rewritten this chapter four times now, and I can't do it anymore! If I wait until it's perfect, we'll be here until Christmas. So I'm just going to say, "It's supposed to be bad!" And I'll leave it at that. :-)_

Ellynedra was bouncing up and down in her chair, and Alistair knew there was nothing he could do to calm her. Ever since she had heard that Leliana was going to give her a private performance, the little girl had talked of nothing else. Every morning, she had asked him if she was going to get to watch Leliana that day, and Alistair was glad that he was finally able to say yes. They sat in one of the smaller meeting rooms as they waited for Leliana to begin, the two of them sitting in chairs in the middle of the room, facing something large that was covered by a tarp. Whatever it was, it was long, stretching from one side of the room to the other, though it was much taller at one end. At either end of the mysterious object were dressing screens.

When Leliana first went to him to tell him what she had planned for Ellynedra's birthday, he was a little surprised she hadn't wanted to invite others. In the past, she'd always acted like the bigger audience she had, the better. Leliana had told him, though, that what she had planned was made specifically for the princess, catered to her tastes, so it wasn't nearly dramatic or tragic enough to let others see. Still, it had been a surprise when he asked her if she was inviting Jessimyn to watch as well, and Leliana had said no. It seemed she was always trying to throw the two of them together. Of course, sometimes he wished he hadn't told Leliana not to meddle. There were times when he would have liked to ask her a few things, but then again, maybe it was better this way. He doubted she would be able to stop at just answering a few questions.

Ellynedra tugged at his arm. "Look!"

The tarp was being pulled back from either side to uncover what was underneath. It was a wooden set, painted to look like a mountain range. On his left, the taller part of the set was painted to look like a tower, with a window cutout at the top. As the tarp disappeared behind the two dressing screens, Alistair had a moment to wonder who the second person was who was helping Leliana before her voice filled the room.

"_Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Elly. She was good and kind, and beloved by all the people of the land. One day, she was out picking flowers..."_

Leliana appeared from the right. She had somehow darkened her hair, and she was wearing a dress that looked quite similar to one of Ellynedra's favorites. She had a basket on her arm, and she skipped out to the center of the makeshift stage, bending over to pick an imaginary flower.

"That's me!" Ellynedra squealed. "She's me, Dadders!"

Alistair patted her knee, smiling at her excitement. He could see now why Leliana had planned for this to be a private performance. He leaned back in his chair, looking forward to the chance to watch Leliana make a fool of herself for his daughter's sake.

"Oh, what a beautiful day," Leliana said. "And what lovely flowers." She leaned over so that her face was obscured, and she continued her narration.

"_Suddenly, there was a loud noise, and a shadow seemed to come out of the sky."_

Leliana stood up, a frightened look on her face, and from the left of the stage came a person, dressed in tight, black breeches and a billowing, bright red shirt. Wings made of red and black cloth hung from their arms, and a giant dragon's head sat atop their shoulders. It took him only a moment to realize it was Jessimyn beneath the costume. The dragon swooped towards Leliana, and she shrieked. Together, they ran off to the right, behind the dressing screen. Alistair glanced at Ellynedra. She had her hands pressed to her mouth, but she was giggling softly.

"_The dragon had been watching the princess and was envious of her great beauty, so it stole her away, flying her far up into the mountains to lock her in a tall tower."_

The dragon and Leliana appeared behind the mountains when they came back out into view, and the dragon's wings flapped as they moved across the stage to the tower. Leliana's head appeared in the window of the tower. "Alas, whatever shall I do?" She cried out dramatically before she ducked back down out of sight.

"_The princess' people were very upset when they realized she was missing. They searched far and wide, and when they found scorch marks where she loved to pick her flowers, they feared the worst. The bravest knights of the land gathered together and set out on a mission to track down the dragon and find the princess."_

Jessimyn appeared from the side again, though this time she was not wearing the wings and dragon's head. Instead, she had a doublet on over her shirt and a helm on her head, under which all of her hair was hidden. Alistair tried very hard not to notice just how tight her breeches were. She was also holding a wooden sword and shield.

"It is I, brave Ser Rej. I will find the princess and bring her home safely!" Jessimyn declared, but Alistair couldn't help but notice the pinkness of her cheeks and the nervous tremor in her voice. Jessimyn was no natural performer, that was certain, and it took everything in him not to laugh aloud at the silliness of it all. He almost had to look away, he felt so embarrassed fo her. Ellynedra, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. Jessimyn stalked off the right side of the stage.

"_But little did the knights know that their help was not needed, for the princess was not only good and kind, but also brave and bold. She made a rope out of her bedsheets one night while the dragon was sleeping and climbed down to safety."_

Leliana again appeared at the tower window and tossed a knotted sheet out. There must have been something on the back side of the tower set piece for her to grab a hold of, because she seemed to lift up in the air for a moment, and then her feet shot through the opening, and she was out on the other side. Her movements were as graceful as a cat, and Ellynedra clapped her hands together when she landed on her feet. Leliana glanced furtively to either side, and then she ran off the stage.

"_Brave Ser Rej made it to the tower and found the rope hanging down. He used it to climb into the tower, but once inside, he found that the princess was gone. It was then that the dragon awoke. It became angry when it realized its prize was missing, and it screamed out in anger. Fire shot from the beast's mouth, burning the rope to ashes."_

Jessimyn came back onstage, this time as the dragon. She went over to the tower and let out a gutteral cry, lifting her wings up to cover most of the tower. When she dropped them again, the rope was gone, and she exited to the other side of the stage.

"_When the princess got back to her palace, her people were overjoyed that she had returned safely. But as the days passed, and brave Ser Rej did not return as well, she began to worry that something terrible had happened. So Princess Elly donned her armor and went back into the mountains to save the knight."_

Leliana appeared from one side of the stage, a breastplate strapped on over her dress, a wooden sword in her hand. Jessimyn entered from the other side, still dressed as the dragon. They stalked around each other, making wide circles before they came together. As the "fight" began, Alistair realized this was the true performance. The cheesy story was just a backdrop for the choreographed battle which was almost a dance. He had known that the two women were graceful and nimble in combat, but he was astonished by the way they moved around and with each other with such fluid motions. He was especially impressed that they managed everything with the props, as he knew Jessimyn couldn't possibly be able to see very well wearing the dragon's head.

The fight seemed to be nearing the end, and Leliana raised her sword over her head, driving Jessimyn-as-dragon off the side of the stage. There was a loud sound, as if she hit the sword against something solid, and then the dragon's head came tumbling across the stage. Ellynedra stood up, clapping her hands together. Leliana came back on stage, lifting the dragon's head up in her hand. Alistair frowned, wondering if she had purposely positioned herself to mimic the drawing that Jessimyn had been given during the parade. But then the frown left his face as Leliana began to sing. The song had the same tune as the one she'd sung during the celebration, but she had changed the lyrics so that it fit the story. When it was over, she strode off the side, carrying the dragon's head with her.

"_With the dragon vanquished, Princess Elly found her way back to the tower."_

Leliana appeared on stage again just as Jessimyn's head, this time in the helm that marked she was playing the knight's role again, popped back up in the tower's window. "Oh, princess," Jessimyn called down to her. "I am trapped. Please save me!" Leliana ducked down around the back side of the tower.

"_The princess found a way into the tower to rescue the prince, and together they fled from the mountains."_

Jessimyn and Leliana ran across the stage, behind the set, disappearing behind the dressing screen on the side, but only for a moment. Then they came back to the center of the stage, though it looked like Leliana was practically dragging Jessimyn with her, and the two of them took a bow. Ellynedra jumped out of her chair, cheering loudly as she bounced up and down. Alistair couldn't hold it in any longer, and he started laughing. Except for the choreographed fight, it was probably one of the worst things he'd ever seen, but then, it hadn't been written for him. When he noticed that Jessimyn wouldn't even meet his eye, he just grinned even more.

Ellynedra ran up to Leliana and Jessimyn, talking and gesturing in an animated manner. After a moment, Leliana excused herself and walked over towards him, leaving Jessimyn and Ellynedra up by the stage. The princess was apparently wanting to try on the dragon's head.

"So what did you think?" The bard asked with a smile. "Shall we perform our little play at your next feast day?"

Alistair chuckled. "How did you ever convince her to be a part of that," he asked, nodding his head in Jessimyn's direction.

Leliana giggled. "Guilt. And I just pestered her until she finally agreed."

"Well," Alistair said with a smile. "I know Nedda enjoyed it." He glanced over at Jessimyn and his daughter, watching as Jessimyn placed the dragon's head atop Ellynedra's shoulders. Then he noticed that Leliana was watching him watch them. She gave him a knowing smile, but he just rolled his eyes at her.

Just then, Ellynedra came over to them, dragging Jessimyn along with her. The dragon's head had been abandoned. "Dadders, can we invite Leliana and Jess to our picnic tonight?"

"I don't see why not," he said.

"Ooh, a picnic? I love picnics," said Leliana. She crouched down in front of Ellynedra. "Nedda, do you want to come look at the tower?"

Leliana took the princess up to the stage. Jessimyn watched them go, and Alistair grinned, letting his eyes travel down the length of her body. The breeches were almost impossibly tight. He must have made a sound because she jerked her head around to glare at him. "If you say one word..." She said in a low voice.

Alistair only grinned more. "I wouldn't dream of it, dear lady."

Jessimyn snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm... going to go change."

"See you tonight," Alistair called after her.

…

Leliana and Jessimyn arrived at his rooms after dinner. The three of them spent a lot of time watching Ellynedra reenact the play as she danced about the room. Much of the rest of the time, he and Leliana teased Jessimyn about her future prospects as a minstrel. She pretended to be annoyed, but she laughed along with them. They laughed and talked the evening away, and Alistair felt a sudden wave of nostalgia, almost as if the past ten years hadn't changed them at all. He was sitting on the ground, leaning up against the couch with Jessimyn at his side. He'd put his arm around her without even realizing it, and she hadn't reacted by pulling away. Leliana sat across from them with Ellynedra's head in her lap.

"I think someone's getting tired," he remarked, glancing at the window to see that it was well past sunset. "I should get Nedda to bed."

"Allow me," said Leliana as she stood, scooping the little girl up into her arms. "I have the perfect bedtime story to tell."

Alistair pointed out the door that led over to Ellynedra's rooms, and the bard and the princess disappeared through them. He stretched, then offered a hand to Jessimyn, who was still sitting on the floor. He helped her to her feet, but her knees seemed to give out on her, and she stumbled against him. Grabbing her around the waist, Alistair pulled Jessimyn to him to keep her from falling. He held her like that for a moment before she got her feet under her and took a step back, pushing his hands away.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I didn't realize how stiff my legs had gotten. They've never been quite the same since..." She trailed off and looked away.

"Since what?" He asked.

A sad smile tugged at her lips. "I guess I never told you. When... Kyran was killed... I told you about the cave-in, didn't I? Well, I was hurt then, too. I was standing right next to him, really. I broke both of my legs in the fall. The mages we sent for, the ones who weren't able to do anything for him, they healed me, but so much time had passed..." She tried to force a laugh. "They're actually a little crooked now. I'm surprised you haven't noticed, especially in the costume Leliana had me wear."

"Oh, I noticed the costume," he said with a grin. "But everything I noticed looked quite nice to me." He chuckled as her cheeks turned pink, and he reached up to run his fingers along the side of her face. "You seem to blush so easily around me now. Do I make you that uncomfortable?"

"I don't know," she said, looking up at him. "To be honest, I don't know how you make me feel most of the time." She paused for a long while before continuing. "Sometimes I think it was a mistake to come back here, but... I don't want to leave. I just... I'm worried that everything will catch up with us one day."

"_Everything_ meaning what?" Alistair asked as he put his hands lightly on her waist.

Jessimyn looked away, but she put her hand on his forearms. "Well, for example, how about the fact that I'm the reason your wife is dead?"

He was startled by the sudden seriousness of the conversation. "You know I don't think that," Alistair said, his voice gentle.

Jessimyn leaned in, pressing her face to his chest, and he wrapped his arms further around her. "Maybe you don't, but what about Ned? What happens when she gets older and she finds out the reason why she doesn't have a mother? I could _understand_ if she blames me, but I'm not sure I could handle it."

"It's... not a conversation I plan on having with her until she's quite a bit older," Alistair said. "But she won't blame you."

"You don't know that," Jessimyn replied, then gave her head a shake. She looked up at him put on a smile. "But here you were, trying to give me a compliment on my crooked legs, and I've gone and ruined it."

Alistair knew he shouldn't just let her change the subject, but he didn't really want to talk about it any more than she seemed to. Besides, when she gave him a set up like that... He took a step back from her, though he kept his hands at her waist. "You know," he said in a casual voice. "If you were the type to wear dresses all the time, I might understand why I hadn't noticed any... _crookedness _to your legs. But you're not. Since I've never noticed, it must be all in your head. No? Well, I'm going to need some proof, then." He lowered his hands and took another step back. "Go ahead, show me."

Jessimyn narrowed her eyes at him, but then she went to sit on the couch. She was wearing a pair of wide-legged trousers, and she pulled them up just to her knees after she kicked off her boots. "There," she said. "See?"

Alistair grinned. "I can't tell. I'm going to need a closer look." He went to his knees in front of her before she could react, running his hands up the outsides of her calves. "Hmmm..." He could tell that one of her knees didn't quite bend the way it was supposed to, but he wasn't sure he would have noticed without her telling him first. "Nope," he said, looking up at her. "Perfect."

Jessimyn smirked at him and put a foot on his shoulder, as if to shove him away, but he grabbed her around the ankle and tickled the back of her knee. With a shriek, Jessimyn convulsed. She wasn't very ticklish really, except for that one spot, which Alistair had discovered one evening shortly after they'd begun sharing a bedroll. Twisting to her side, she tried to free herself from his grasp, but Alistair grabbed her other leg and pulled her towards him. She slid forward off the edge of the couch to land next to him on the ground.

"Not fair," she laughed, giving him a playful shove.

Alistair felt an overwhelming urge to push her to the ground and kiss her, but he refrained. She was laughing, and he didn't want her to stop, didn't want to see that look of panic in her eyes when he got too close. "Was it not? Well, then, I do humbly beg your forgiveness." He stood up, offering his hand to her again. "Why don't you pour us all a drink," he said. "I'm going to go see what's keeping Leliana."

He took a moment to compose himself before opening the door to Ellynedra's room, but when he peeked inside, he saw his daughter was fast asleep, but there was no sigh of Leliana. He went through her room to look into the sitting room.

Dera was there, and she got to her feet. "Your Majesty," she said.

"Did Leliana come through here?" He asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. She left a little while ago. She said she didn't want to go back through your rooms and disturb you."

Alistair just nodded and walked slowly back to his own rooms. While he could appreciate why Leliana had left, he wasn't sure how Jessimyn would react. Well, there was only one way to find out. When he went back into the sitting room, Jessimyn was on the couch, holding a glass of wine. Two other filled glasses were set out as well.

"Where's Leliana?" She asked, peering behind him.

"Apparently she left through Nedda's rooms," he said.

"Oh..." Jessimyn made as if to set her glass down. "I suppose I should be going, too."

"Or... you could stay," Alistair offered. "Just stay for a while, Jess." He smiled at her. "You're not going to leave me with three full glasses to drink by myself, are you? Besides, I haven't told you about the letter I received today." She gave him a suspicious look but didn't stand up, which he took as a good sign. Retrieving one of the glasses, Alistair sat next to her. "The letter was from Teagan," he said. "Elda has given birth to a healthy baby boy. They've decided to name him Marcus." He reached out to twist a strand of her hair around his finger. "I'm thinking we'll go visit Redcliffe this winter. Well, we'll leave before winter, of course, but... it's been too long since I've been there. I thought it might be nice to show Nedda where I grew up."

"Are you going to show her the stables, then?" Jessimyn asked, trying not to smile.

"Of course! Nothing keeps a girl humble like knowing her father was raised by dogs," he said, and Jessimyn laughed. "Ah, such memories," Alistair reminisced. "I remember playing in that hayloft as a little boy..."

Jessimyn grinned at him. "Most stories I've heard men tell that involve haylofts are probably a little different from the ones you'd tell."

Alistair chuckled. "You're probably right, though if you're offering to help me _make_ such memories, I'm willing."

"I think I'll pass," Jessimyn said with a smile.

"Jess, I... want to ask you something," Alistair said hesitantly, moving closer to her so he could put his arm across her shoulders. "I want... I want you to spend the night with me. I mean it in the most literal sense," he added in a hurry, noticing the look in her eyes. "I'm not asking for sex, or even anything related to sex. I just..." He suddenly felt foolish, yet he had no option but to continue. "I think what I've missed most these past ten years is being able to fall asleep with you in my arms." He got up off the couch to stand in front of her.

"Alistair... I'm not sure we should..."

"I know we _shouldn't_," he said, pulling her to her feet. "But I _want _to. Do you want to stay, Jess?" He pulled her closer to him. "You told me the other day that you've felt alone... well I have, too. But I don't feel alone with you here. I just... I just want to hold you."

"All right," she said in a soft voice.

"All right?" He repeated back to her, and Jessimyn nodded.

Alistair took her hand and led her back to his bedchamber. Once inside he went to his wardrobe and pulled out two nightshirts. One was handed to Jessimyn, and he took the other one back out into the sitting room to change. When she was ready, he went back into the bedroom. Jessimyn was already in the bed, her face almost hidden by the blankets, but Alistair slid in next to her, wrapping his arms around her. It almost felt like a piece that had been missing from him was put back into its place, and he fell into an easy sleep.

The next morning he awoke and rolled to his side, reaching a hand out to Jessimyn, but he was stopped cold by what he saw. Jessimyn was still there, but she was not the only one in the bed with him. Alistair silently cursed himself for not locking the door that led to Ellynedra's rooms, as she had joined them at some point during the night. How she had managed to crawl up between them without waking either, he didn't know, but there she was. He forced himself to be calm. Ellynedra already knew Jessimyn was there, so there wasn't anything he could do about _that_. All he could do was act natural and hope that his daughter wouldn't think anything of it.

He lay there, contemplating whether or not to wake Ellynedra and tell her to go back to her rooms, when Jessimyn made a small sound and rolled onto her side, putting her arm around his daughter. The sight of them like that pulled at him, and he realized that this was the family he could have had. The family he _should _have had, if things had been different. If only...

"Morning, Dadders," Ellynedra mumbled, and Alistair saw Jessimyn's eyes pop open.

Putting his hand on top of Jessimyn's, he said, "Good morning, Nedda. Why don't you go find Dera and get dressed, and then we can have breakfast."

"Okay," she said with a smile as she wriggled to the end of the bed.

"Oh, Maker," Jessimyn breathed once Ellynedra was gone. "Oh, Alistair, what..."

He squeezed her hand. "It's only a big deal if we make it a big deal. She didn't... see anything, didn't walk in on anything. It's... fine. Really."

"You don't look like you think it's fine," she said as she sat up.

"Well... it's not the way I would have wanted to start the day, given a choice," he admitted. "But now we need to get dressed, so we'll be ready to go to breakfast when she comes back."

"We?... No, I think I should just..."

"Jess, I think it's better if you're there. I'd rather not have to explain to her where you went, especially since she's likely to ask in front of other people." Alistair shook his head. "Really, it will be fine. Besides, now we've learned our lesson, for next time."

"Next time?" Jessimyn asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, next time," Alistair said with a smile. "Next time, we'll remember to lock the door."


	99. Jessimyn Chapter 99

"Is Ned asleep?" Jessimyn asked as Leliana sat down beside her.

"Yes, finally," said the bard. "I'm not sure we're going to make it to Redcliffe before I run out of stories, though."

Jessimyn smiled. "Well, it's a good thing she likes to hear the same ones over and over again then, isn't it?"

They hadn't been traveling for long, but Ellynedra had only been out of Denerim once, when she went with Alistair to Amaranthine, and the trip to Redcliffe was considerably longer. She had been excited for the journey at the beginning, but it hadn't taken long for her to grow bored and cranky. As they traveled, Leliana was at the princess' side most of the day, singing songs and telling stories and doing whatever she could to keep her entertained. It helped make the trip more bearable for everyone, but it also meant that Jessimyn had no one else to talk to other than Alistair, and that posed its own problems.

There had been many more invitations for her to stay the night with him, but she had declined each one. If she wasn't worried about Ellynedra joining them again, she might have taken him up on it. Even Alistair's promise to lock the door didn't help matters, as the idea of his daughter coming to his door, only to find it locked, didn't sit well with her. However, just that one night spent together seemed to change things between them, at least a little. Alistair still respected the boundaries she had set, but he seemed less concerned about other people seeing them together. Not that he was inappropriate in any way, but if he had his arm around her and someone walked by, he didn't immediately pull away.

The problem, as she saw it, was that the more time she spent around him, the more time she _wanted _to spend with him. They didn't exactly fall back into their old routines, as he looked to her for advice rather than leadership, ideas rather than an ultimate decision, but the old feelings they had once shared seemed to rear their heads at strange times. But perhaps the most worrisome thing was that being around Alistair made her realize how much she had changed. Once she had been brave, bold, never one to back down from a challenge, never one to look back, but that was no longer the case. Now she seemed to second-guess herself at every turn, and that was unpleasant.

"You think too much," Leliana mused, and Jessimyn gave a start.

"What? Oh..." She gave her a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, were you saying something?"

Leliana stood up and offered Jessimyn a hand. "Let's go for a little walk."

The days were still warm, but the nights were starting to get cooler, so most of their party gathered around their respective campfires once night fell. Their group consisted of Jessimyn, Leliana, Alistair and Ellynedra, their personal servants, and a number of guardsmen. Alistair was talking quietly to his manservant, but Jessimyn could feel his eyes on the two of them as they headed away from the fires.

"So..." Leliana said with a smile, once they were away from the others. "You and Alistair..."

Jessimyn laughed. "Maker, Leliana. You need to come up with more original questions. If that was, in fact, a question. Or were you just making a list of everyone here? If so, please continue."

Leliana shook her head. "Are you and he..."

Jessimyn thought about evading the question but realized she didn't really want to. Maybe talking about it would help her figure things out. "I don't know what he and I are," she said. "I don't know what I _want _us to be."

"Why not?" Leliana asked, eyebrows raised. "You still love him, yes? And he loves you? What is there to be confused about?"

"It's not that simple," Jessimyn replied. "We're different people now. When we fell in love before, we were young and selfish and didn't have to think of anything other than each other. Things have changed. He has a daughter now, one who may very well grow up to hate me when she's old enough to understand why she had to grow up without a mother. Why would I want to put us in a situation where he would have to choose between Ned and me? That's not a fight I would win. That's not a fight I would _want _to win."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Leliana said, "But that's nonsense. Nedda adores you."

"She's five," Jessimyn said. "She has plenty of time to grow to resent me."

"But when she sees how happy you make her father, how much he trusts you..." Leliana began.

Jessimyn shook her head. "I think I frustrate him more than anything else." She sighed. "But he frustrates me, too. I mean, I know he wants more from me, and maybe I want more as well, but..."

Leliana frowned at her. "What do you mean, he wants more? Do you mean to say that the two of you haven't... been intimate yet?"

"We haven't even really kissed," Jessimyn said, her lips quirking up into a smile. "It's strange, that sex never used to be a big deal to me before, and now..." She took a breath, trying to figure out how to put into words all the things she'd been thinking over the past few weeks. "When he and I were together before, I wasn't expecting anything more than a warm... and attractive... body in my bed. I didn't expect to fall in love with him as I did. When I left, it took something from me." She shook her head. "I know it was my decision, and I don't know that I'd make a different one, were I to have the chance to do it all over again, but it was still painful."

"And you're afraid of getting hurt again?" Leliana asked.

"I don't know," Jessimyn said. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm afraid of hurting _him_. Maybe I'm afraid that I'm keeping him from finding a suitable wife, one who could be the mother that Ned needs."

"Well..." Leliana put her hands on her hips. "I think you should just sleep with him." Jessimyn raised her eyebrows at that, and Leliana grinned. "No matter how much you might want to ignore it, you know that he thinks of you as much more than just his adviser. He never took Eamon with him, when he traveled. And look, if for some crazy reason Nedda, or anything else, comes between the two of you in the future, it will happen whether you're with him now or not. Why not just enjoy the time you have, whether it's five more years or the rest of your lives?"

"I'm not sure I know _how _to enjoy myself anymore," Jessimyn said with a smile.

Leliana tapped her on the head. "That's because you spend too much time over-thinking everything. You have to rely on instinct some of the time." She linked arms with Jessimyn. "Now come on, let's get back to camp before the king thinks I'm trying to win you away from him."

The weather turned much colder shortly after they passed Lothering, and their pace was increased so that they could get to Redcliffe as quickly as possible. When they finally reached the gates of the castle, Ellynedra started crying, so great was her relief to be out of the cold and finally back into a warm bed. Their arrival had been well anticipated, and they were welcomed in to warm rooms with roaring fires in the hearths. It was the day after they arrived that Jessimyn went to go visit Elda and her new son, Marcus.

The baby was a pink, squalling thing, and Elda pushed him into Jessimyn's arms before she had a chance to protest. "He has quite a grip," she commented as she attempted to free her hair from Marcus' tiny fingers. In fact, everything about him was tiny, and Jessimyn was admiring his little feet when Alistair came into the room with Ellynedra and Teagan. Alistair and Teagan walked over towards the women, but Ellynedra hung back by the door.

Alistair leaned over Jessimyn, letting his hand brush her back as he admired the child. "What a fine head of hair he has," he said. "Congratulations to you both."

Teagan offered them both a drink. Jessimyn declined, but Alistair accepted and the two men walked over to the other side of the room. Jessimyn looked over at Ellynedra. The princess was staring at the baby, and she almost looked... frightened? "You can come over," Jessimyn said to her, but Ellynedra shook her head. Then Jessimyn noticed the tears forming in the little girl's eyes. She gently handed the baby back to Elda and stood up to go to Ellynedra. "What's wrong?" Jessimyn asked, but Ellynedra just shook her head again. Jessimyn took her hand, and they went outside the room. The door had no sooner closed behind them when the princess burst into tears.

"Ned," Jessimyn said, leaning down to pick her up in her arms. "What is it?"

Ellynedra buried her face into Jessimyn's shoulder. "That baby..." She sobbed. "Is it... is its mama going to die?"

"What? No, of course not. What makes you think that?" Jessimyn asked.

"My mama died when I was a baby," Ellynedra whispered.

"Oh, Ned," Jessimyn said, hugging her tight. "I know you're worried about the baby, but he'll be fine." Her sobs quieted after a while, and she felt her head moving around against her shoulder. "Are you wiping your nose on my shirt?" She asked lightly, and Ellynedra let out a nervous giggle. She set her down, but went to a knee in front of her. "I know it's not fair, that some children get to have a mother _and _a father when you don't, but you know your father loves you very much, don't you?"

"Y...yes," Ellynedra said, her lower lip trembling a little. "But... what if something happens to _him_?"

Jessimyn wiped the tears from her cheeks. How could she tell the princess that everything would be all right, that her father would always be there to take care of her, when she knew he had less than twenty years before he, too, would have to leave her? "Ned," she finally said. "I will do everything I can, to make sure nothing ever happens to your father."

"You promise?" Ellynedra asked.

Jessimyn nodded. "I do." She smiled at her. "Do you want to go back in now and see the baby?"

Ellynedra nodded, and she took her hand. When they turned to go back into the room, Jessimyn stopped. Alistair was standing in the doorway, watching them both. The princess ran to him, and he scooped her up into his arms. But as he turned to carry her back into the room, he reached for Jessimyn's hand, giving it a squeeze. She let them walk back in but didn't follow. Jessimyn suddenly felt the need to be... away. She went down the hallway, moving as fast as she could without running, until she got outside.

There was no reason for her to be panicking like she was, and a few deep breaths of the cool air helped calm her. Normally, when Jessimyn was in Redcliffe, she always stayed in the castle, but she decided to go down into the village. It had changed since she'd last been there, grown and spread along the shore of the lake. There were more people around who recognized her than she would have guessed, and Jessimyn spent most of the day in town, only heading back to the castle as it grew dark, and she knew she would be expected at dinner.

She had just enough time to change and wash her face before the meal was served. Jessimyn was seated across the table from Alistair, who spent most of the dinner rubbing her leg with his foot. When it was over, and everyone was getting up to leave, Alistair caught her arm before she could escape, pulling her away from the others.

"Where did you go today?" He asked. "Why did you leave?"

"Into the village," Jessimyn answered.

Alistair seemed to be waiting for more, but when she didn't offer it, he just nodded. "Jess, I..." He glanced over his shoulder at the others around him. "Will you come to my room tonight?"

"Alistair..."

"Nedda is in a room down the hall. There's no hallway connecting her room to mine, and Dera will be with her." He touched her arm. "Stay with me tonight."

She hesitated a moment longer before nodding. Then Alistair gave her a smile, his old, Alistair smile, and she felt her stomach flip. He brushed the back of her hand with his fingers before going back to Ellynedra. He made his excuses to Teagan and Elda before taking his daughter up to her room. Jessimyn lingered a while longer, but she soon found herself walking slowly up the stairs to the guest rooms. She passed by Alistair's door to go to her own room. The blouse and trousers she was wearing were discarded along with her boots, and she pulled on a chemise. One of the few dresses she had brought was put on over it, and then she put on a pair of slippers.

She waited a while before leaving her room. Jessimyn wanted to give Alistair enough time to get Ellynedra to bed, but once she figured enough time had passed, she went down the hall to knock at his door. It was Alistair who answered, rather than his manservant, and he offered her a drink. Jessimyn readily accepted, hoping the alcohol would calm her nerves.

"You're wearing a dress," he said with a faint smile, handing her the glass. "I wasn't sure you even did that anymore unless forced."

"That's usually what it takes," she agreed as they sat down on the couch.

"So to what do I owe the honor, then?" He asked as he put his arm around her, his fingers moving up over the back of her neck into her hair.

"I... can sleep in my chemise," she said. "But I can't wear one unless I'm wearing a dress. So this way I don't have to borrow a shirt from you."

Alistair nodded and sipped his wine. "So what happened with Nedda earlier today? I saw her leave with you, but I... only heard the end of your conversation."

"She hasn't been around many other babies, has she?" Jessimyn asked, and Alistair shook his head. "I guess she... knows that her mother died when she was a baby, and she was worried that something was going to happen to Elda."

Alistair grimaced. "She's only asked me about Lyrina a few times, but I never thought she would think that having a parent die was something that happened to most children." He shook his head. "But then, I've never given her any details about her mother's death, so maybe that's my fault. Maybe she just assumes... Maker, I don't know." Jessimyn put her hand on his knee, and he placed his own on top of hers. "But thank you," he said. "For comforting her."

Jessimyn didn't know what to say, so she just drank her wine. Alistair seemed to be watching her, and as she finished the glass, he took it from her hands and set it aside. Turning back to her, he put his hands on either side of her face. He waited only a second, to see if she would pull away, before he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Jessimyn closed her eyes, trying to push down the panic that was threatening to rise. But even after so many years, the taste of his mouth was still familiar, and she moved her lips over his, allowing his tongue to glide along hers.

When he finally leaned back, he said, "I've been wanting to do that for nearly a year now." Alistair nuzzled her neck, and Jessimyn let out a soft sigh. "Are you..." He smiled at her. "Do you want to go back into the bedroom?"

"Yes," Jessimyn breathed, and Alistair pulled her to her feet.

Once in the bedroom, Alistair pulled her to him again, pressing his lips to her neck. He nibbled his way up, and when he sucked her earlobe into his mouth, Jessimyn lost all sense of anything else for a while. When she came back to herself, he had her dress unbuttoned to the waist and was pushing it off her shoulders. But that was all right, wasn't it? It wasn't as if she was planning on sleeping in the dress, after all. Once it fell to the floor, she kicked it away, kicking off her slippers as well. Alistair took a step back as he began removing his doublet and shirt, and Jessimyn felt the heat rise in her body as his eyes traveled over her. But when his hands went to his breeches, Jessimyn stopped him.

"Alistair, I..." She took his hands in hers. "I don't know if I can... if I'm ready for..."

He kissed her, cutting off her words. "I'm just... getting ready for bed," he said with a grin.

His hands went back to the laces on his breeches, but Jessimyn turned away to climb into the bed. It was almost funny, that he had once been so shy about being unclothed in front of her. She tried to keep her eyes averted as he went to his wardrobe to pull out a pair of loose, linen breeches to pull on once the ones he'd been wearing were discarded, but all the exposed skin kept trying to draw her attention. It was a relief, really, when he finally slid into bed next to her. They both lay on their sides, looking at each other for a while. The blankets ended at their waists, and Jessimyn's eyes were drawn to Alistair's bare chest.

"Jess," he said softly. "You can... touch me, you know. I'd like it if you did."

When she didn't say anything, he put a hand on her waist. She hesitantly put her hand on his chest. His skin was so warm, and she trailed her fingers over him. Alistair pulled her closer, and she tilted her head, pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat. She could feel on her lips the low moan he gave at her actions, and he pulled her even closer, his arousal apparent as he pressed his hips against her. Jessimyn inhaled sharply as she felt his thumb brush against a nipple, and then his mouth closed over hers, hungry this time, demanding. It took her a moment to catch her breath when he finally pulled away.

Jessimyn rolled to her other side so that her back was to him. She needed to think, and she couldn't do that when he was so close. But Alistair didn't give her any space, wrapping his arms around her as he began to slowly grind his hips against her bottom. She could feel the heat rising in her as he moved his hand up her body to cup a breast.

"Alistair..." she whispered.

His breath was warm on her neck as he spoke. "I know," he said, hugging her tightly to him. "I know, Jess." His hands stilled, his arms around her only to hold her, though he continued to press soft kisses to the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "You... don't have to apologize."

He gave her one of those smiles that sent flutters through her. "Oh, it's not for what you think, I'm sure. What I'm sorry for is that I turned you down, that first time you invited me back to your tent. That I made you wait so long before we finally slept together. Because if I made you feel even half as... tormented as you've made me feel these past few months, then I _do _need to apologize." Jessimyn blushed, and he laughed softly and kissed her nose. "But really, Jess," he said. "I want to hold you more than anything else. If I can just hold you now, then I am a happy man." He kissed her again. "Goodnight, Jess."

"Goodnight, Alistair."


	100. Alistair & Jessimyn Chapter 100

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, chapter 100... I thought I'd be done by now for sure... _

Alistair

Alistair awoke with a start. His heart was pounding in his chest, and sweat beaded over his body. The already fading dream had left him gasping for breath, and he stumbled to the opening of his tent, throwing it back to gulp in the cool, night air. He'd had similar dreams a few times while they were still in Redcliffe, but he had hoped that being back on the road again, being worn out from a long day of traveling, would have left him exhausted enough that his nights would be dreamless. Apparently that was not the case. Not that the dreams were unpleasant in any way, of course, but the after-effects could be. Luckily _that_ hadn't happened, though, and luckily Jessimyn wasn't lying beside him this time.

It was all her fault anyway, he thought with a smile. True, she had spent more nights with him than in her own room while they were in Redcliffe, but he hadn't managed to get her to let him touch her anywhere below the waist. It was maddening, really, and his thoughts were so consumed by Jessimyn that she was even invading his dreams. Of course, it didn't help to know that she might likely go back to staying in her own rooms, once they were back in Denerim. They hadn't talked about it because Alistair hadn't wanted to bring it up, in case her decision was not the one he hoped her to make.

A cool breeze blew through, and Alistair shivered, realizing he was standing there with his tent open, wearing only his breeches. He started to let the flap drop when he stopped, peering around at the camp. It was dark and quiet. There were five tents circled around his fire, which included his, Jessimyn's, Leliana's, Eldryn's, and Ellynedra's, which she shared with Dera. There were two other fires, around which the guardsmen's tents were placed, and it was they who kept watch. He could see two men still up, by one of the other fires, but everyone else seemed to be asleep. Alistair stepped out of his tent and went over to the one next to his, ducking inside quickly.

The fire didn't provide much in the way of light inside the tent, and he could only barely make out the sleeping form on the ground. He heard the rustle of movement, and then a voice. "I hope that's who I think it is," said Jessimyn, her voice a little muffled.

Alistair smiled. "So do I," he said, moving carefully to her. When he pulled back the top blanket on her bedroll, she made a protesting sound.

"Cold," she mumbled.

"I know," he said softly. "Scoot over, and I'll help keep you warm."

They had stayed in Redcliffe through the winter, leaving as soon as the snows melted. It had been an enjoyable visit, but Alistair was ready to be back in Denerim. He had lost his desire to be on the road anymore, had grown way too used to sleeping in a bed, with hot food at every meal. He hated to admit it, but he'd gotten used to having servants around him, too. Of course, fewer servants meant fewer people watching his every move.

Jessimyn put her arm around him as he slid into her bedroll. That she made no protest to his being there, that she touched him without any prompting on his part, showed how far they had come over the past couple months, but that didn't mean he didn't still want more from her. Alistair kissed along her chin before finding her lips, which she offered to him willingly. He ran his fingers over the collar of her nightgown, finding the tie that held it closed in front. Giving it a tug to untie it, he pushed it open as far as it would go to reach inside and cup a breast. Jessimyn let out a small sound, and he pressed his lips to her ear.

"Quiet now," he whispered. "You wouldn't want anyone to hear us..."

Then he ran his tongue over her ear because he knew what that did to her. Jessimyn writhed against him, but she otherwise managed to keep from making any noise. Well, that would just mean he'd have to try harder. It didn't take much longer, though, before she had to press her mouth against his chest to stifle her soft moans. Of course, it did little for his own situation, which seemed even worse than when he woke up, and he rubbed up against her as his hand slowly trailed across her stomach and over her hip. Alistair curled his hand around her thigh and moved it up to stroke her a few times before she finally grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"Not... not like this," Jessimyn said quietly in his ear. "Not in the cold, in a tent."

That gave him pause. It wasn't her usual protest, which was normally that they couldn't, that they shouldn't. He moved closer to her. "You're right," he whispered back. "We'll wait until we have a bed again." She didn't agree, but she didn't say no, either. Alistair put his arms around her, and eventually he managed to fall asleep.

In the morning, just as the sun was coming up, Alistair ducked out of Jessimyn's tent to go back to his own. He'd just stepped outside when he saw Leliana emerging from her own tent. Their eyes met, and her lips curled up into a smile. Alistair gave her a sheepish grin before scurrying over to his tent to get dressed for the day.

It was that night, once they made camp again, before Leliana approached him. In truth, he was surprised it had taken her that long. He was sitting at the fire, and Leliana sat down right next to him, just grinning at him.

"Something you needed?" He asked.

Leliana clasped her hands together. "Oh... no, it's just so nice to see the two of you back together."

"Is that what we are?" He inquired.

Leliana smiled. "I certainly hope so. It's what's best for everyone."

Alistair's eyes were drawn to his daughter, who was standing next to Jessimyn, watching her as she sharpened her weapons. Was it really what was best? It was definitely what he _wanted_, but he didn't often seem to get what he wanted. "We'll see..." He said with a shrug.

But Leliana wouldn't let it go, of course. "So..." she said, still grinning. "Are you going to marry her, then?" He raised his eyebrows at her, and she laughed. "Well, you _did _tell me you're no longer in a position to have casual relationships, so it seems you're left with no other choice."

Alistair coughed, again glancing over at Jessimyn and Ellynedra. They were too far away to hear, though. "You know why we can't," he said softly.

"No, I don't know anything of the sort," Leliana responded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Seems to me she would be the perfect choice. Jess already accepts that Nedda is your heir. She wouldn't be trying to have another child to usurp her place. Plus look how well they get along. Oh, and you love her. That's always a positive thing, yes?"

Alistair sighed. "You forget one very important thing."

Leliana scowled. "What? Fergus? I think the two of you let his actions dictate your lives a little too much."

"And how would it look?" Alistair asked. "All of the nobles who were at that Landsmeet know why he... killed Lyrina. If Jess and I were to marry, it would seem that he was successful. It would seem that he won in the end."

Leliana shook her head. "He can't win, Alistair. He's dead. Regardless of the awful things he did, he's not the reason the two of you are together now." She smiled. "Or however you wish to define it."

With a frown, Alistair shook his head. "Well... you also forget that I've asked her before to marry me, and she turned me down."

Leliana grinned. "Yes, but that's different. The issues you had back then are no longer issues."

Alistair just looked at her. "I think this counts as meddling, you know," he said after a moment.

Leliana laughed. "Of course. But I think you say that simply because you don't wish to talk about it any longer, yes?"

"Maybe," he conceded. "But it doesn't make it any less true." Leliana started to say something else, but he stood up. "I need to get Nedda to bed."

He spent most nights after that in Jessimyn's tent. There seemed to be no reason not to, since Leliana already knew. He wasn't worried about Eldryn or Dera. They wouldn't be his and Ellynedra's personal servants if he couldn't trust their discretion. He didn't stop having his tent set up, though. There was no reason to give the guards more reason to talk than necessary.

Jessimyn

The first day after leaving Lothering, as it was getting close to when they would need to make camp, they saw a large group of men heading towards them on the Imperial Highway. As they got closer, it was apparent that the men were armed, and Alistair's guardsmen moved into position around him. Closer still, and Jessimyn realized she knew them, or at least some of them. The guards were startled when she pushed ahead of them to be at the front of the group.

"Jandin," she called once the man was close enough.

"Jess! Maker, what are you doing out here?" He smiled as they clasped hands. Then he caught sight of Alistair, who was moving towards them. "Your Majesty." The group of Grey Wardens offered a bow.

"We're on our way back to Denerim from Redcliffe," Jessimyn said in answer to his question. "Why are you out here?" Her eyes traveled over the other seven men with him. "This seems too large a group to be out recruiting..."

Jandin shook his head. "We got word a couple months ago of... not an attack, exactly. Some travelers claimed to have found a bunch of darkspawn bodies, in an area between Lothering and Ostagar. So we're going to check it out." He smiled at her. "How have you been?" Jandin looked around her at the others with her. "Is Zevran with you?"

Jessimyn gave him a confused look and shook her head. "No... I haven't seen him since... well, the last time _you _saw him."

"Actually," Jandin said. "He was in Amaranthine a few months ago. Just showed up one day and was asking for you. We told him you'd gone to Denerim, and he was gone the next day. We figured that's where he was going, figured he went to find you."

Jessimyn felt her stomach flip. "He... was in Amaranthine? But when? We've been in Redcliffe all winter. We haven't been in Denerim for months."

"Oh, well, it wasn't that long ago," Jandin said.

Her hands clenched into fists. Had Zevran gone to Denerim looking for her, only to find her gone? If he had, would he still be there? But... he was alive. If Jandin saw him, he had to be... "How did he look?" She asked. "How did he act?"

Jandin shrugged. "I don't know. Like... like Zevran. He didn't stick around, but he looked... normal."

Jessimyn felt Alistair's hand on her back, and it made her realize how frantic she was getting. She took a breath to calm herself. "Well," she forced herself to say, keeping her tone even. "It's good to know that he is well." Zevran was alive, and that was good, but she needed to know more. But then, maybe she needed to think about something else, to keep from hyperventilating. "So, these darkspawn bodies..."

Jandin scrubbed a hand over his face. "Just more strangeness, it seems. They didn't mention seeing any human bodies with them, but that doesn't mean there weren't any. But from the reports, there were quite a few of them."

Jessimyn frowned. "Did it mention anything unusual about the bodies?"

"Like missing heads or being stretched out on a rack?" Jandin asked grimly, and Jessimyn nodded. "No, nothing like that. But it seems the travelers turned tail and ran as soon as they stumbled upon them, so there's no telling what we might find, if there's even anything still there once we get there." He grinned at her. "You should come with us."

The idea made her smile a little. She certainly did miss being out with the other Wardens. It had been years since she'd been out on a mission. Having a bed to sleep in and hot food at every meal had its benefits, but Jessimyn had grown accustomed to sleeping in a tent, out on the road. To be back out on her own, no servants to pester her, no one telling her what to wear, had a greater appeal than she might have thought. Alistair's hand dropped from her back, and he stalked away, making Jessimyn realize she'd taken too long to respond to Jandin's request. Jandin watched him go but obviously thought nothing of it. Why would he?

"We're going to camp soon," Jandin said. "Why don't we camp with you, and you can think about it." He smiled. "It'd be great to have you back with us."

"Well," she said. "This mission is obviously a big deal, to take you so far away from Highever."

Jandin laughed, though it was a touch sad. "That sister of yours is certainly a remarkable woman. And I've grown quite fond of your niece and nephew. But let's be real, Jess. She's a noblewoman, and I'm a Grey Warden. I'm meant to be out here, like this, not walled up in a castle somewhere with someone to wait on me hand and foot. Not that it's a bad life, don't get me wrong. But it's not a Grey Warden's life."

His words made her look over at Alistair. He wasn't looking at her, but she could tell by the way he held himself as he spoke to one of the guardsmen that he was angry. That hardly seemed fair. It wasn't like she would seriously consider leaving... would she? She wouldn't deny that Jandin had a point, but her decision to stay in Denerim was one of the few decisions she'd made that she was sure of. It had been made without letting fear or guilt cloud her judgment.

Jessimyn spent most of the evening with Jandin and the other Wardens, catching up on everything that had been going on since she left. She kept an eye on Alistair, hoping to be able to speak to him in privacy, but he always had others around him. He put Ellynedra to bed, but then he disappeared into his own tent, and she realized she'd lost her chance, though it was likely he'd end up in her tent later that night. Everyone eventually drifted off to their own tents, and Jessimyn lay awake in hers, waiting for him, but he didn't come. After tossing and turning for well over an hour, Jessimyn got up and peeked out her tent before she went over to his, ducking quickly inside.

She'd only just made it inside when he spoke. "What do you want?" His voice was thick with emotion.

"Alistair," she said, walking towards him carefully, though it was hard to see in the darkness of the tent. "I just..."

"What, came to tell me you're leaving?"

Her foot brushed the side of his bedroll, and she went to her knees beside him, hands going out in front of her to feel for him. Jessimyn's fingers brushed his bare chest, and his hand shot up to grab her wrist. With a sharp tug, he pulled her down onto the floor, and then he was on top of her, his mouth attacking her neck and ear. She wrapped her arms around him, running her fingernails down his back. Maybe he wasn't mad, then, she thought with a smile. She tried to be quiet as he kissed his way over her throat and shoulders, and when his hand snaked down to rub her leg, she didn't stop him, nor did she stop him when he started pulling her nightgown up. It was stupid, really, that she kept stopping them from doing something they both obviously wanted.

His hand was on her upper thigh when he spoke, his voice low and throaty. "I command you to return to Denerim with me."

Jessimyn smiled and ran her fingers up into his hair. "Why, Your Majesty... you know you have no right to go ordering a Grey Warden around like that," she teased. She tilted her head down to kiss his neck, but he rolled off of her. Her exposed skin was suddenly cold without the heat of his body on her, and she rolled to her side. "Where did you go?" She asked, reaching for him.

"I'm not the one going anywhere," he said, and his voice was angry now.

Confusion crashed in, and Jessimyn sat up. "Wait... are you being serious?" She asked quietly, and he didn't answer. She pulled her nightgown down over her legs. Did he really think... But the part of her that wanted to reassure him that she wasn't leaving lost out to her anger. "You would dare to _command _me do to _anything_?" She demanded. "You have no right."

Alistair must have sat up as well because she could feel his warm breath on her ear as he spoke quietly to her. It might almost have seemed intimate, if she were to ignore what he was saying. "No right to command a Grey Warden, perhaps, but that's not what you are. You are my adviser, and I have _every _right to tell you what to do, including forbidding you to leave."

Jessimyn pulled back, shocked. "And here I thought we were..." She shook her head, though she knew he couldn't see it. "Fine. I'm your adviser? Here's some advice for you. Maybe you need a _different _adviser if you don't even trust me."

"Maybe I do," was his response. "Just... get out..." He said, his voice sad and resigned.

She sat in a stunned silence for a moment before standing up. "Oh, don't worry. I'm going," she replied, and she turned to leave. Of course, it was right then that her knee decided to give out on her, and Jessimyn tripped, managing to catch herself with her hands as she fell forward. There was a rustle of movement, and she felt Alistair's hand on her hip, but she jerked away from him, stumbling from his tent as quickly as she could.

Once back in her own tent, she pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes, trying to figure out what had just happened. It was all so ridiculous. He'd gone from hot to cold before she could even blink. Did he really believe she would just up and leave like that? But then... isn't that what she'd done in the past? Of course, that was under completely different circumstances. Well, there was no use worrying about it just then. They just needed to get some sleep, and they would resolve everything in the morning. It took her a very long time to get to sleep, though.

In the morning Jessimyn was tearing down her tent when she turned to find Ellynedra standing there, staring up at her, her bottom lip sticking out. Jessimyn went over to her. "What's wrong, Ned?"

Ellynedra gave Jessimyn her sad, puppy dog eyes. "Are you really going away?" She asked.

"What?" Jessimyn demanded, going to a knee in front of the princess. "Who told you that?" She asked, knowing the answer.

"You can't go," the little girl said. "You promised... you said..." Her eyes started tearing up.

Jessimyn hugged Ellynedra to her. "Ned," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not?" She asked in disbelief.

"No, I'm not," Jessimyn reassured her before standing up, her eyes scanning the others around them. Leliana and Dera were both working on pulling down their tents as well, and Alistair was talking to Eldryn. Jessimyn stalked over to him, uncaring of anyone else around them. "What is wrong with you?" She asked him. Eldryn, like the good manservant he was, seemed to just disappear at the first sign of a personal conversation. In fact, Leliana, Dera, and Ellynedra all suddenly seemed to be elsewhere, too.

"Don't speak to me like that," Alistair said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"How about... you don't go using your daughter to make me feel guilty about something I was never going to do in the first place," she said harshly, poking him in the chest with a finger. "That's low, Alistair. Really low." She sighed. "How about, if you have a concern, you _ask _me about it rather than assuming you know what I'm going to do."

His expression softened, a look of doubt crossing his face. "You..." He shook his head. "What am I supposed to think, Jess? He asked you to go with them, and you're afraid to answer him in front of me. Then you avoid me the rest of the night."

"You're supposed to think that I wouldn't just _leave_, for one," she said.

"Why? You've done it before."

"That... was different," she said. "Things were different then. The issues we had then aren't issues anymore." He made a strange face at that, and Jessimyn groaned, pressing her hands to her eyes. "Maker, Alistair... why are we arguing? Why are you acting like a sulky child? Why don't you just... ask me what I'm planning on doing, if you're so worried about it?" He just looked at her, and she sighed, then tilted her head to one side. "'Hey, Jess, what are you planning on doing?'" She asked herself, then tilted her head to the other side to answer. "Nothing different from what we were already doing, Alistair. Returning to Denerim."

"You're right," he said after a long stretch of silence. "I should have asked, rather than assuming."

"Yes, you should have," she said, shaking her head. "Well... at least now I know where we stand."

"What does that mean?" Alistair asked.

Jessimyn wouldn't look at him. "We obviously still have some trust issues we need to work on. Which is a pretty big deal, if I'm supposed to be the person you can go to when you need advice or counsel."

"Jess..." He said, reaching out to touch her hand, but she pulled away.

"No. It's fine. Maybe I deserve that. Maybe that's how it should be. Maybe we've pushed ourselves into trying to be something we're not. At least not yet," she said, her voice soft. Alistair reached for her again, putting his hands on her forearms, and Jessimyn sighed, leaning in to rest her head against his chest for a moment. Finally she pulled away. "Come on, we're wasting daylight. We need to be going."

Jessimyn turned and went back to finish packing up her tent, aware that his eyes were on her as she walked away.


	101. Alistair Chapter 101

The next few weeks were almost painful, with the tension that seemed to linger between Jessimyn and Alistair. They were still talking, could still be polite with each other, but every night, when Alistair watched her going into her tent, he kicked himself for overreacting as he had. She had been right about that. He should have just asked her, but when her fellow Grey Warden had asked if she wanted to go with them, Alistair had seen the smile on her face. Yes, Jessimyn had stayed, had apparently _wanted _to stay, but he knew that part of her had wanted to go, and that scared him a little. Was he being foolish, to let himself get so wrapped up in her again, if there was a chance he might wake up one morning to find her gone?

Jessimyn was still talking to him, it was true, but Leliana was not. When she had found out what had happened, she'd been furious with him. He wasn't sure which was worse, Leliana's seething silence or Jessimyn's cold politeness. Both left him lots of time to think, though, and by the time they were about a week away from being back in Denerim, he'd finally figured out what he needed to say.

Alistair waited until he could be certain that everyone was asleep before he ventured from his tent. He hesitated a moment before he ducked into Jessimyn's. She didn't seem to wake up right away, so he crouched down at the foot of her bedroll, touching her gently on the ankle to wake her. As there was a good chance she might draw a weapon if startled, he made no sudden movements.

"Alistair?" She said groggily after a moment.

"Yes," he said, pulling his hands back from her. "It's me."

There was the sound of her sitting up, and then she asked, "What's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," he whispered. "I just wanted to talk to you."

There was a moment of hesitation, and then he heard what sounded like her lying back down. "All right," she said. Alistair moved up to sit next to her, at the side of her bedroll. He was trying to decide where to begin when he felt her hand on his knee. "It's cold out there. Get under the blankets so you'll be warm, at least."

Once he was next to her, he stayed on his back, arms at his side. It was Jessimyn who moved his arm so that it wrapped around her as she laid her head on his shoulder. It took some willpower not to rub his hand up and down her arm, but he didn't want to get distracted. "Jess..." He took a deep breath. "I want to apologize for the way I reacted. The way I _over_reacted. I'm sorry."

The sound of her breathing and the feel of her head on his shoulder were the only things that told him she was still there as they lay there in silence for a very long time. He almost thought she had fallen asleep when she finally spoke. "Do you really think I would just leave, just like that?"

"I don't know," Alistair said. "Apparently I do."

"When I left before... it was because I couldn't interfere in your marriage any longer," whispered Jessimyn. "I did what I did for the sake of all three of us. If I were to leave now, it would just be for me, assuming I had a reason to want to go. But if I wanted to go, I would talk to you about it first, and it wouldn't just be on a whim. Does a part of me wish I was with the other Grey Wardens? Sure. But I made a decision to be with you... well, to be your adviser, and I don't take it lightly. I guess you don't see that."

Alistair started to protest, but he stopped himself. "Maybe I don't. Maybe I don't know you well enough to be able to see it." He sighed. "And maybe you're right, maybe I've been pushing us to be something we're not. I really thought things were different, thought that I had changed, but I don't know that I have. The way I reacted... I was jealous, Jess. That man Jandin brought up Zevran's name, and you got so flustered at the thought of seeing him again, and I was jealous. I don't like feeling that way. _You _never get jealous, of Lyrina, or Alys, or anything, and I wish I could be that way, too. But that's just one of many examples that shows how different we are. I mean... Maker, when it comes down to it, we've lived almost completely separate lives. Yes, perhaps we used to... be in love, but that doesn't really seem to make a difference as to who we are now." But then, if it didn't make a difference, why did he feel that dull pain in his chest?

Jessimyn rested a hand on his chest. "And who are we now?" She asked, a slight tremor in her voice. "Just a king and his adviser?"

Alistair placed his hand on top of hers. "More than just that, I hope. I want us to be more." He closed his eyes, willing himself to just say what he wanted to say. "If I were to ignore the practical and the sensible, and tell you what I _really _want..." He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump forming in his throat. "I would tell you that I want us to be in love again. I miss it. I miss _us._ Even when you were in Denerim before, when we were together, it wasn't the same. It couldn't have been the same, obviously. But I wanted it to be then, and I still want that now."

"But we _can't _ignore practicality and sense," she said softly.

"I know," said Alistair as he reached to run a finger through her hair. "Maybe we just need to find a way to make it work for us. I mean... if that's what _you _want. Maker, I don't even know. I try to convince myself that I just want you to be happy, but that's never really been the case. I want you to be happy... as long as it's with me. But maybe that's not possible. Am I just fooling myself to think that it is?"

"Are you asking me what I want?" Jessimyn asked.

"Yes," Alistair whispered. "I should have asked you that a long time ago."

She was quiet for a long while. "I'm drawn to you, Alistair. I have been from the moment we met, it seems. You were able to make me laugh when I felt like my whole world was falling apart. You were the first person I ever fell in love with. The only person, really. But I wonder if I've let that cloud my judgment. I wonder if you have, too. We can't... look, we both know the physical nature of our past relationship is still alive and well, and while there was a time when I was fine with just the physical, I don't think I am anymore. I don't think you've ever been fine with just that."

"So what are you saying, Jess?" He asked hesitantly. "What do you want?"

Jessimyn let out a soft sigh. "I suppose our situation now isn't all that different from what it was before. I still feel like what I want is secondary, because you still have another woman in your life."

"The difference is that this one likes you," he said, smiling faintly. "You know Nedda doesn't want you to go anywhere. You know she loves being with you."

"And you know that will likely change," Jessimyn replied.

"We don't know that," Alistair said. "Look, I don't know when I'm going to tell Nedda about Lyrina's death, but as long as I'm the one to tell her, I'll make sure she knows you had nothing to do with it. But then... you still haven't told me what it is you want."

Jessimyn shifted against him, and he felt her lips brush his ear. "You want to know what I want?" She asked, and he nodded. "I want to be happy. I don't want to have to look back and regret anything. I don't want you to have regrets, either. And as much as it scares me, I think I would regret it if we didn't at least... try. But I also know I would regret it if I caused Ned any undue pain."

_She should have been ours_, Alistair thought but didn't say. It was a horrible thing to think. One more betrayal of the wife he was never faithful to. But that didn't change it from being true. "So then what do we do?" He asked.

"Why do we have to make a plan?" She asked. "Things were going fine until you decided to be my king instead of my... friend. I want to be with you,you know, as we have been, but I won't let you tell me what to do. You told me you wanted me as your adviser because I see you as yourself and not as the king. Well, if you want me as your..." She stopped, as if searching for the right word.

"Lover?" He offered. "Friend?"

"I suppose those as good a word as any," Jessimyn conceded. "So yes, if you want me as either of those, then you need to treat me as an equal and not as one of your subjects."

Alistair suddenly felt very foolish. "You're right," he said.

"Of course I am," Jessimyn replied, a teasing tone in her voice. "But I want you to know... when we get back to Denerim, I'm going to try to find Zevran. I need to know that he's all right."

Muscles tensed at that, but Alistair willed himself to relax. "I can't control the effect he has on me," he whispered.

Jessimyn kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "Maybe not, but you _can _control how you react to it. And you need to be able to trust me, if you want any of the aspects of our relationship to work."

"You're right," he said again.

Jessimyn tickled his side. "Wow, twice in less than a minute. Either you're getting smarter, or you still feel really badly about how childish you acted."

Alistair grunted and grabbed at her wrists. "Maybe I'm just hoping for some dirty make-up sex," he whispered.

Jessimyn laughed. "While I'm not necessarily averse to the idea, I think I'd prefer a situation where your daughter wasn't within earshot." She brushed her lips over his. "Now let's get some sleep."

The next morning, Leliana came over and spoke with Alistair as if nothing had happened. He hadn't seen Jessimyn talking to her, so he knew she hadn't told her of the conversation they'd had the night before. He wondered for a moment if perhaps she had seen him ducking out of Jessimyn's tent early in the morning. But then he grimaced, realizing that Leliana's tent was right next to Jessimyn's, and even though they had tried to be quiet, the bard had probably overheard their entire conversation. Alistair tried to remember if he'd said anything too terribly embarrassing. He guessed, by the grin on Leliana's face, that he probably had.

They were back in Denerim a week later, and everyone was happy to be home. Now that she no longer had to travel, Ellynedra was back to being her usual, cheerful self, and she prattled on about how excited she was to get back to her sword lessons. Jessimyn assured the princess that they would begin again soon, but not for a few days. When Alistair saw her leaving the palace, the day after they returned home, he knew she was going to the compound to ask if Zevran had gone there. He dreaded what she would find.

Jessimyn had said that she wanted to live her life so that she had no regrets, that she wanted to be happy. What if she decided that what made her happy had pointed ears and a ridiculous accent? The thought made him a little ill, but all he could do was wait and hope, and trust that she would be honest with him, whatever she decided.


	102. Zevran Chapter 102

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is a little dark. You've been warned._

Zevran sat in the corner, in his usual chair. One arm hung over the back of the chair, while his leg was hooked over its arm. There was the usual buzz of activity around him, but he ignored it all, even the woman who sat at his feet who had her head on his knee. He knew she was bored, but he didn't care. He'd paid for her time, and he could do with her as he wished.

She tilted her head up to look at him. "Don't you want to go back to the room now?"

He patted her head. "Not yet."

She pouted at him, and he smiled. Her face was pretty enough, but he hadn't chosen her for her face. Like all the whores he'd been with over the past few years, he chose her for what she looked like from behind. When he fucked them, he never allowed them to be in a position where he had to look at their faces, never in a position where they could see his. Faces were too intimate. They could betray you, hurt you... make you feel things.

Zevran had been in Denerim for a few months. He didn't want to be there, but he wasn't going to leave without seeing Jessimyn first. She was the reason he was there in the first place, after all. So he waited, filling his time with one of the two things he did best. The other thing, well... he'd been doing too much of that lately, and he needed to stop before he got himself killed. Unless that was what he was aiming for. Some days he wasn't sure anymore.

He closed his eyes, thinking back on all the things he'd done since Kyran died. The first kill had been the hardest, but they had gotten significantly easier. His lips curled into a smile, remembering the last man he'd killed as he begged for his life. Shoving his knife under the man's ribs had been particularly satisfying. Zevran wasn't sure if it was the memory or the fact that the whore at his feet was rubbing her head up against his groin, but he was suddenly very aroused. He stood up, grabbed the woman by the wrist, and dragged her into one of the back rooms to finally do what he'd paid for.

When he finished, he went back to the common room of the whorehouse. Zevran was approached by some of the other girls. He ordered the first to get him a drink, but the rest he waved away as he went back to his usual chair. The alcohol helped dull his senses, helped to shut up that part of his mind that screamed at him to stop, screamed that he had slipped back into a life he no longer wanted to live. He couldn't deal with that voice, and he did whatever he could to quiet it. Maybe once Jessimyn returned, he would be better. She had brought him back from the brink once, and the sane part of him hoped she could do so again. Of course, would she even want to, once she found out about all of the terrible things he'd done?

When he had left the camp behind, his only goal was vengeance. At first he had wanted to go after the mages who had refused to heal Kyran, but as Zevran headed north, towards the Circle Tower, he knew he would get little satisfaction from killing them. No, there were others who deserved to suffer for the anger he felt at having lost Kyran. It was almost funny, that he hadn't truly realized how much the man meant to him until he lost him. At least this time his heart hadn't been broken by his own hand, but broken was broken, either way.

The wine he was drinking was good. The private stock of the house, held back for those customers who spent a great deal of money there. It hadn't taken Zevran long to become one of those people. After all, what else was he going to do while he waited? He _had _taken a day to scope out the Grey Wardens' compound, but he had been able to tell right away that Jessimyn wasn't living there. Which meant that she could only be staying at the palace, especially if what he'd heard about her being Alistair's adviser was true.

When Zevran had shown up in Amaranthine, he had been disappointed to hear that Jessimyn had gone to Denerim a little over a year earlier, but it hadn't been terribly surprising. With him gone, and Kyran gone, and even that idiot Berton gone, she had no one there anymore. Of course, hadn't she just traded one idiot for another, if she had come back to Denerim for Alistair?

"Umm... Zevran?"

The boy standing in front of him was maybe twelve years old... but he could never tell. His mother was one of the whores, and with the boy's beautiful face, he likely would become one as well in a few years, whether he wanted to be or not. "You have news for me?" He asked.

"Y.. yes. The king... the king has returned," he said.

Zevran just nodded and fished out a coin for the boy. If Alistair was back, then so was Jessimyn. But he didn't want to go to the palace to see her, as he had no desire to see the king. In fact, he'd much rather surprise her, catch her unawares. When he'd gone to the compound, there had been no one there he recognized, no one who would recognize him, so he'd asked who was in charge there. Apparently Jessimyn was still supposed to be running things, even if she had been gone for months. Chances were she would have to go there before too long, if the mountains of paperwork he remembered her having before was still necessary to take care of.

The Grey Wardens were not an observant group of people. Zevran was able to move about the compound easily without being detected, and he found a place he could hide where he could see the entrance to the compound and the window to her office at the same time. Then he waited. She didn't come that day, but he could be patient when needed. He'd waited for months already, after all.

When he finally saw Jessimyn arrive at the compound the next day, his breath caught in his chest. She looked just as he remembered her, but why should she seem any different? Perhaps it was because Zevran felt like _he _was so different, he thought everyone else should seem different, too. He watched for a moment as she spoke with some of the other Wardens, but then he moved to the window and crawled through, into her office. He couldn't really say why he didn't want to be seen by anyone else, but he didn't. He sat on one of the benches against the wall. He heard a door, and then her footsteps across the floor. There was no sound of her speaking to anyone, so he hoped she was alone.

She had opened the door and was halfway to her desk when she stopped and turned her head. "Zevran," she said in barely a whisper.

He stood up, and she flew to him, pulling him into an embrace. When he felt her trying to pull away, Zevran realized he'd held her a little too tightly, for a little too long. But it had been much too long since he'd been touched by anyone who hadn't been paid to do so. "How have you been?" He asked.

"_How have I been_?" She demanded, laughing a little. "You disappear in the middle of the night, without a trace, you're gone for... what, three years now? I've worried about whether you were even _alive _or not, and then you just show up here, acting like nothing happened? Maker, Zevran... where have you been?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Lots of places. Here and there. So I hear you're some sort of adviser now?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "Don't try to change the subject," she said. "Where did you go? Why did you leave?"

Zevran smiled. "I had business to attend to. It has been completed."

"What sort of business?" She asked, but he could tell by her face, by the tone of her voice, that she had an idea what he meant.

"Things to take care of," Zevran said vaguely. "Things Kyran left undone, things I finished for him."

Jessimyn sat down on the bench, lifting a hand to rub at her face. "You went to the Circle Tower, didn't you?"

He stood in front of her for a while, watching her. Her eyes were just a little too wide as she looked up at him, and Zevran wondered if it had been a mistake to come. He had thought that she, of all people, would understand why he'd done what he did. He needed her to understand. "I will answer what questions you ask, my dear Jessimyn, so do not ask questions if you don't want to hear the answers."

She turned her head to look at him as he took a seat next to her. "I... want to know that you're all right," she said. "I want to know that you're safe, that you don't have people after you, that..."

Zevran chuckled. "Now I might almost be offended by that, as if you think I've lost my touch." He patted her hand. "I am well, and I am safe enough, unless you know something I don't." He frowned. "As for your previous question... I wonder. How much did Kyran tell you, of his life among the mages?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "Not much at all. I... know he wasn't treated well while he was there, but he never offered details, and I never asked. I always figured he would tell me about it one day, if he ever wanted me to know." She looked at him. "Is that..."

"To say he was not treated well is a vast understatement," Zevran said, feeling his anger grow. "Some of his fellow apprentices, along with a couple of the templars, did horrible things to him. They harassed him, tormented him, beat him and abused him. They did unspeakable things to him, things someone such as yourself could never even imagine, things you probably couldn't stomach."

"Someone such as myself?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

Zevran gave her a cold smile. "You have seen and experienced horrible things, of this we both know. But you lived a sheltered life. You still do, it would seem." Jessimyn pressed her lips together but did not respond to that. He wasn't trying to bait her, not really. Maybe he _should_ give her some of the details. Perhaps that would help her to realize why he'd done the things he did. "At a fairly young age, he apparently showed too much interest in one of his fellow apprentices. His group of tormenters found out about it and, feeling that it was unnatural for a young man to show such interest in another young man, they decided to let him know their feelings. It started out as teasing at first, but it quickly escalated beyond that. As an example, once they beat him nearly unconscious, stripped him of everything but his smallclothes, then locked him in a closet in the basements of the tower. They left him there for two days, with no food, no water, no way to relieve himself, and no one anywhere nearby to hear his cries for help. They finally let him out, but he had to go halfway across the tower, in front of many of the other mages and templars, to get to his quarters where he could finally clean up and cover his nakedness."

Jessimyn's face clearly showed her shock. How would she feel to know that was one of the tamer stories? "But... he would have had bruises... why did no one do anything about it?"

"Because Kyran would never accuse anyone," Zevran said, doing his best to control his anger. "What was his name... Irving, I believe? He pulled him aside and questioned him many times, but Kyran refused to name names, for fear that it would only make the torments worse." His expression softened a touch. "He really believed you saved his life, by coming along when you did to recruit him. He said that, even had he not survived the Joining, it would have been better than if..." His voice caught in his throat, and Zevran had to look away.

"I... had no idea," Jessimyn said softly.

"Do you remember how he was, those first few days after leaving the Circle Tower?" Zevran asked. "So... happy, so relieved. Why do you think he never wanted to leave your side? He saw you as his protector, his savior."

"Yet I failed him," she said, her voice full of sorrow.

"No," said Zevran, turning to face her again. "You did everything you could for him. And so did I."

"You killed them, didn't you?" She finally asked, and Zevran nodded. "You... made them suffer, didn't you?"

"They deserved to suffer!" He declared, his voice rising with the anger that could not be kept at bay. "They deserve to be suffering still for what they did to him. Five men. Five! Men who should have been his friends, yet they nearly broke him. That they were not able to only shows just how strong he really was."

Jessimyn held her hands up, almost defensively. "I understand the need for justice, I really do. But Zev..."

He sneered at her. "If you're going to give me a line about how it won't bring him back, or some other nonsense, save it. I am well aware of that. But why should those men have been allowed to live when he was dead? Why should they have been allowed to go on with the rest of their lives without being shown that their actions had consequences?" He took a breath to calm himself. "Everything I did to them, they deserved. They deserved worse than _anything _I did to them."

"I don't want any details," she said in a hollow-sounding voice.

Zevran looked at her. "I wasn't offering any." He touched her cheek. He had told her enough of where he had been, and he didn't want to talk about it any longer. He didn't really think she wanted to talk about it either. Best to get to the real reason why he had come back. "So why are you back in Denerim? I didn't think you'd ever come back here."

"I'm... the adviser to the king now," she said.

Zevran smirked. "While I can see that the man probably needs all the advice he can get... why you, Jess? After everything he's put you through..." He shook his head.

"Any... issues Alistair and I may have had have been resolved," she said carefully.

"Oh, I just bet they have been," he muttered under his breath. "You... you don't belong here, Jess. You deserve better than some gilded cage. You deserve to be free. I..." He took her hand. "I tire of Ferelden. I wish to travel, to get away from this Maker-forsaken land. I want to see Orlais, and the Anderfels, maybe even Seheron and Par Vallon. I... want you to come with me."

"Zev..."

"We are alike, you and I. We... work, we make sense together." He grinned at the face she was making. "Do not misunderstand me, I am not proposing, nor declaring some undying love for you. Such things are not for us. But oh, the adventures we could have, just you and me against whatever anyone could try to throw our way."

"Zev, I'm... happy here," she said.

He scowled and stood up, taking a few steps away before he turned to face her. "You're not happy, you're comfortable. You feel safe here, with your fancy clothes and your bastard king."

"Don't speak of him like that," said Jessimyn, shaking her head.

"Ah..." he said. "I see. You still love him, don't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I thought you were smarter than that, smarter than to fall for his wiles again, but I guess I was wrong." Zevran shook his head. "I will bother you no further, then."

"Zev," she said, standing up to go to him. "Don't... you should come to the palace with me. I know Leliana would love to see you again, and so would Alistair, whether you believe it or not. You... don't have to leave. You could stay here."

"No," he said, a coldness filling his body. He had come hoping Jessimyn would understand what he was asking. He could never tell her what he needed from her, but he had hoped she would understand. He had been mistaken, it would seem. "I did not come here for a visit, or to catch up with old friends. I have no desire to simply try to pick up where I left off three years ago. No, I came here because I need a new start, but I was hoping I might make it with you, the one person I thought understood the life I've led."

"That's not fair, Zev," she said. "I _do _understand, but I can't... what you're asking of me... Why don't you stay, at least for a little while? Please."

"Why would I stay?" He asked, shaking his head. "It would seem that there's nothing here for me anymore."


	103. Alistair Chapter 103

Alistair couldn't help but smile at the little scene before him. He sat on the couch in his sitting room, his arm around Jessimyn as she leaned against him. She, in turn, had Ellynedra on her lap. Together they were looking at a book, and Jessimyn was helping Ellynedra sound out some of the easier words. He was happy to have all three of them together, but what had made him even happier was that Jessimyn had come to him all on her own. Before, if they spent time together in the evening, it was because he had invited her back to his rooms. But then, a lot had changed since Redcliffe.

For one, she had never really seemed comfortable showing him any sort of affection, or having him show any to her, when the princess was around. Yet she had pulled his arm around her almost as soon as they sat down. He tilted his head down, kissing Jessimyn lightly on her temple. She smiled at him, but there was a tightness to her eyes, almost a sadness, and he knew something was troubling her. Alistair had tried to ask her earlier what it was, but she had waved him off. Of course, it had been silly to ask in front of Ellynedra, and he hoped she would talk to him once his daughter was in bed. But until then, he waited, enjoying the feeling he got when it seemed like the three of them were almost a family.

Letting his mind wander, Alistair thought back to Redcliffe, to seeing Jessimyn holding Elda and Teagan's son. It had awakened in him a longing he hadn't realized he'd been carrying around with him. It was a painful longing, though, one he knew they would never see come to pass. It had taken over five years of trying for Ellynedra to be conceived, after all. If it took one Grey Warden that long, how much longer would it take for two? Besides, he had a theory that it would be much easier for a Grey Warden to father a child than it would be for a Grey Warden to birth one.

He wondered if Jessimyn had a similar longing, if she ever wished she could have children of her own. He often wondered if it was really fair, to make new Grey Wardens without first telling them all the things it would mean giving up. Had she not joined the Wardens, and barring all of the tragedies that happened in her family, she probably would have had a handful of babies already. Of course, they wouldn't have been _his_ babies. And therein lay the futility in wishing things had been different. If they had been different, they wouldn't be where they were right then, and Alistair was quite happy with the way things were right then. He ran his fingers through her hair, wishing he could ask her about all of those things, but he knew he couldn't. Just more items to add to the list of things they didn't talk about... at least not yet. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to tell her all the things he wanted her to know.

There was a clearing of the throat, and Dera knocked lightly at the side door. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but Her Highness' bath is ready."

"Awww..." Ellynedra pouted. "I don't wanna take a bath."

Alistair smiled. "Remember what happened the last time you dawdled?"

She stuck out her bottom lip. "The water was cold."

"That's right," he agreed. "The water got too cold. Go on now, take your bath. Dera will get you ready for bed, and then you can come back for a little while."

"Okay," she said with a smile and scampered off with Dera to her own rooms.

Jessimyn closed the book and set it aside, then she turned back to him, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her head against his chest. Alistair pulled her close to him. "What's wrong, Jess?" He asked.

She just held onto him for a while, but she finally spoke. "I saw Zevran," she said.

"Oh?" He tried his best to keep his voice neutral. "Where did you see him? Is he... well?"

"He was waiting for me in my office, when I went to the compound," she replied, and Alistair couldn't help but tense a little. After all, he remembered all the things the two of _them _had done in that office before. "But no," Jessimyn continued. "He's not well. He..." She gave him a searching look. "He did not take Kyran's death well. He's done some things that... but then, I'm not sure how much you want to know. As king..."

Alistair frowned. If someone brought Zevran before him, with charges of some sort of wrongdoing, he could not simply ignore them just because Zevran was an old friend. Being a friend had not saved Fergus, either... though he wasn't sure how similar the two situations were. It didn't help, knowing that Jessimyn wanted to tell him, but she also wanted to protect her friend. "Has he done something against the people of Ferelden? Because if he has, and he's caught, I can't help him."

Jessimyn shifted on the couch, turning so that she put her legs over his lap, her arms still around his waist. "I know that. But as for what he's done... it involves the Circle Tower."

Brushing her hair back from her face, Alistair nodded. "I have little, if any, control over what they do, how they govern themselves. Like the Chantry, they tend to deal with matters on their own."

With a nod, Jessimyn began telling him the things Zevran had told her in her office, about the things Kyran had had to endure as a young man, and about how Zevran had gone to the Circle to seek out those men who had caused Kyran such pain.

Alistair sat very still, stunned by her news. "He... he killed mages? And templars? Maker, they've got to have people out looking for him. No matter how... _good _an assassin he might have been, there's no way he could kill five people and make it look like an accident. Especially if there was... torture involved." Just the thought of it made him squeamish. He'd never had a stomach for torture, or anything of the like.

"There's been no news from the Circle that I've heard," Jessimyn said.

Alistair nodded. "And there won't be. They wouldn't let news like that out, but you can be sure there are groups of templars out in Ferelden, scouring the land for him. He can't... it wouldn't be safe for him to stay here," he said.

"He's not staying," Jessimyn said, her voice soft. "He... he said he was going to leave, that he wanted to travel, to... make a new start. He asked me to go with him. He said... he said he and I are alike, that..." She sighed softly.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, Alistair tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. "In _some_ ways you are alike, I suppose. You're both loyal to your friends, to the people you care about. But your methods are not the same."

"I've killed plenty of people," Jessimyn said, her voice barely a whisper now. "And I'm not sure I feel any remorse."

"But did you take _pleasure _in it?" He asked. "You didn't because that... that's not who you are. You've killed in battle, in self-defense, and for the sake of justice. What Zevran did..." He paused, trying to figure out how best to proceed. "I can understand his pain at losing his friend. Or at least I think I can. I liked Kyran, too, and to think of people getting away with the things they did to him... I would be angry, too. But torture? I know I could never be a part of something like that, especially considering all the things we saw when we were in Fort Draken." He sighed. "But... he was raised differently from you and I. He was raised to think... well, Maker knows what. He has been a friend these past... ten or more years, but he lived a completely different life before he met us. He is a well-trained assassin, and that part of him did not just simply go away."

Jessimyn was giving him an odd look, almost like she was trying not to smile. "I tell you Zevran asked me to run away with him, and you defend him to me?"

Alistair smiled at her. "Oh, was this a test? Did I pass?" She smiled back at him, and he ran a finger down the side of her face. "Am I wrong to assume that you did _not _come here to tell me that you're leaving with him?"

"No," she said. "I'm not leaving."

"Then that means you chose to stay with me instead of go with him," he said, not able to hide his grin. Jessimyn quirked her lips at him, and Alistair chuckled. "I know, it's terribly childish of me, but if that is indeed the case, then I can afford to be charitable." He shook his head. "But seriously, I... I know the two of you were close. I know that you've missed him, and that you will miss him still if he leaves, especially since you will likely also worry about his safety. He and I may not ever be the closest of friends, but I don't wish anything bad for him. But we can't protect him from himself. Or from the Circle, should they ever find him."

"I'm worried he's going to get himself killed," she said, pressing her face to his chest again. "He nearly did the last time something like this happened," she added, almost to herself.

"What do you mean, _the last time something like this happened_?" Alistair asked.

Jessimyn let out a soft sigh. "I guess you've never heard the story. He... there was a woman, named Rinna. I think he loved her, though he would never admit such a feeling. She... was a Crow. They were on a mission, and he got information that showed she had betrayed him, and... he killed her. But then later he found out she had been innocent. It was because of her that he took the job to come kill us for Loghain. He... he thought he would die. No one else wanted the job, and he took it, hoping we would kill him."

Alistair ran his hand up the outside of her thigh. "But your soft heart ruined his plans."

"But now he's lost Kyran, and I think he's in a similar place," she said, confirming to Alistair that Kyran had in fact been more than just a friend. "Maybe even worse off. At least when he was with us, he had a purpose, something to do with his life. But now..."

"He's a grown man, Jess," Alistair said gently. "And a rather cunning one at that. There's nothing you could do for him that he couldn't do for himself. I know you don't want him to be alone, but that is his choice. He may eventually have to face the consequences of his actions. I, for one, am glad you won't be there with him, should that happen. If he's gone back to his old ways, his old life..." He shook his head. "I wouldn't want you to be a part of it."

"I don't think I could be," she said in response, moving a hand up to rest on his chest. "Besides, I... I'm happy where I am now. I told him that." Jessimyn gave him a smile, though it was a touch sad. "Maybe we don't know what will happen in the future, but for now..."

Alistair put his hands low on her waist and lifted, moving her so that she was sitting on his lap rather than just across it. He held her to him for a long time, and when she started nuzzling up against his neck, he pulled back enough to press his lips to hers. He buried a hand in her hair, his tongue darting out to run over her upper lip and teeth before it met hers. He pulled her closer, enjoying the feel of...

"Eww... gross!"

They practically flew apart, and Jessimyn slid off his lap so that she was once again sitting at his side. As one, they turned their heads to see Ellynedra standing in the doorway, dressed in her nightgown, her hair in twin plaits down the sides of her head. "I... thought you were going to bed," Alistair managed, and he heard Jessimyn make an amused sound at his side.

"You said I could stay up if I took a bath," Ellynedra said. "I wanted to finish the story."

"Oh, yes... of course," Alistair said, and his daughter smiled.

Jessimyn picked up the book to find where they had left off, and Ellynedra wedged herself between the two of them so that they could finish the story. Alistair rested an arm along the back of the couch, watching the two of them as they read. If either was uncomfortable that Ellynedra had walked in on them kissing, neither showed it. Jessimyn caught him looking at her and gave him a smile. Alistair reached out, over Ellynedra's head, to stroke her cheek.

"All right," Alistair said, once they reached the end of the book. "_Now _it's time for bed."

"Awww..." Ellynedra protested.

Alistair stood up, reaching down his hands to his daughter. "Come on. We let you stay up later than usual already," he said. His lips quirked into a small smile. He had said _we _without even thinking about it, as if he and Jessimyn were...

"Are you going to tuck me in?" Ellynedra asked, and Alistair nodded.

He gave Jessimyn a look before he took his daughter over to her rooms. In the past, whenever Jessimyn had come over for the evening, she always left once the princess went to bed. He hoped that would not be the case this time, that she would be waiting for him once he got back. He held his daughter's hand as he walked her back to her room. She crawled into bed, and he pulled the blankets up over her.

He was standing up to leave when Ellynedra spoke. "Is Jess going to be my mother now?" She asked. Alistair froze as he looked down at the little girl. "Because I heard that mothers and dadders kissed, and you two were kiiiiiiiissing." She giggled, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Alistair felt like his head was spinning. "Who told you that?" He asked, stalling.

Ellynedra shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

Alistair struggled for an explanation. "Kissing is... something people do when they like each other a lot." He frowned. "Older people, I mean," he added in a hurry. "Not kids. You shouldn't be kissing anyone, of course."

She gave him a confused look. "But I kiss you, Dadders."

"Well... that's different. I don't mean kissing your parents. That's not the same," he tried to explain.

"What about Grandfather?" She asked.

"Well, he's... he's still a parent, really. He was your mother's father. So you can kiss him, too. I just mean..." Alistair scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He did _not _want to be having this conversation. "You shouldn't be kissing other little boys your own age." Maker, that wasn't even what she had _asked_.

Ellynedra wrinkled up her nose. "That's gross."

Alistair nodded emphatically. "Yes, it is." He hoped that would be the end of the conversation.

The princess smiled at him. "But you were kissing Jess. She's a girl, and you're a boy. That was gross, too."

"But..." Alistair grasped for an explanation. "But we're not kids. We're adults, so it's... so it's all right for us to do it."

"And that's because you like her a lot?" Ellynedra asked, and Alistair grimaced. It seemed his daughter had a better grasp of the situation than he did. "I like her, too," the princess continued. "She's nice."

"Yes, she is," Alistair agreed, hoping talk of kissing was over. "She..." He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Jessimyn standing in the doorway that led to the hallway to his bedchamber. She had a look on her face... A soft look, one he hadn't seen in years, and it sent a wave of warmth through him. There was a small delay between him looking at her and when she seemed to notice it, and she smiled at him before disappearing back through the doorway. He wondered if she'd heard the whole thing... but did it really matter? Alistair turned back to Ellynedra. "All right, Nedda. It's time to get some sleep." He kissed her forehead. "See you in the morning. I love you."

"Love you more," she said with a smile.

Alistair extinguished her light, and then he walked slowly down the hallway back to his own rooms. Once inside the bedchamber, he hesitated a moment before turning the lock on the door. Then he went back into the sitting room, but Jessimyn wasn't there. He sighed. Had she left, gone back to her own rooms? He was contemplating going after her when he realized her boots were lying on the floor. If her boots were still there, then she couldn't have gone. But then where was she? Alistair frowned, looking back at his bedroom... He went back through the door, and it was then that he realized the door leading to the balcony was open just a little. He went outside to find Jessimyn leaning up against the railing. She turned as he joined her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't trying to intrude, to eavesdrop."

Alistair shook his head. "It's all right," he said, putting his arms around her waist.

Jessimyn smiled at him. "So did you have that speech all planned out?" She asked in a teasing manner. "I can't wait to hear how you tell her where babies come from."

Alistair groaned, leaning his head against her shoulder. "She's not even six yet! I don't want to think about that for a very long time." Then he grinned at her. "Or maybe I'll just have you tell her. She'd probably be more comfortable hearing about it from another woman, after all."

Jessimyn chuckled. "She might be, yes. And the fact that it would save you from having to do it wouldn't bother you too much, I'm sure. I think it might have been uncomfortable for me, had it been my father who sat me down to have that particular talk." She grinned at him. "So let's see... I'll start out with _when two people like each other a lot_..."

"Love," Alistair said, and Jessimyn raised her eyebrows at him. "Come on, Jess. I'm her father. I don't want her... while I'd much rather think of her living her life like a Chantry sister, at least give me the delusion that she'll love the first person she ever... she ever..." He couldn't even finish the sentence.

"All right, fine," Jessimyn conceded. "_When two people love each other..._"

"And they're married," Alistair added.

Jessimyn laughed. "_Now _I think you're delusional," she said, running her hands up his arms.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at her. "No, I'm not," he said, his tone defensive. "Some... some people still wait for marriage. Just because you and I didn't... I mean... I know that Lady Alys was still a virgin, and..." Maker, what made him bring up _her _name?

Jessimyn's smile widened. "_Was _a virgin? Did you take care of that for her, then?" Her fingers walked up his shoulders.

"_Is _a virgin," Alistair corrected hastily. "At least as far as I know. I mean, I never... we never..." He flushed and pulled back, flustered. "Maker's breath, woman. I'm going back inside."

He turned to leave, but Jessimyn caught his hand and pulled him to her so that she was pressed between the railing and him. "I think you should stay," she whispered in a husky voice. "Why don't you kiss me? Show me how much you like me."

Alistair made a small, almost growling sound in the back of his throat. He put his arms around her, pulling her away from the railing just a little so his hands could move down and grab her bottom as he kissed her. He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, across her chin and down her neck. "Are you cold?" He whispered to her.

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, why?"

With a grin, Alistair brought his hands up to brush his thumbs across her nipples, which he could see pressing up against her blouse. "No reason," he said lightly, his mouth going back to her neck. The soft, happy sounds she was making drove him on, and he could feel the heat rising in his body. When her hands wandered down his backside, he couldn't help but let out a groan, thrusting his hips against hers. A hand moved around to stroke him through his breeches, and his mouth found hers again. But then her hands were on his chest, pushing him back, and Alistair felt as if he was going to explode. He didn't want to stop.

"Maybe we should go back inside," Jessimyn whispered, still pushing him as if to herd him towards the door to his bedchamber.

Alistair grinned. "Your desire is my command," he said.

Once inside, Jessimyn made short work of his doublet, tossing it aside before moving to the buttons of his shirt. She'd only gotten the first couple unbuttoned when Alistair grabbed it and hastily pulled it off over his head. He started on her blouse, but then her hands were on his breeches, stroking him while she pulled at the laces, and that seemed to take all his attention. Then his breeches were sliding down his legs, and suddenly he was completely naked, while Jessimyn was still fully dressed. It didn't seem quite fair.

It was all he could do to stay on his feet as she ran her hands up and down his body. When she began stroking him again, this time without his breeches in the way, he lost all awareness of his surroundings, only coming back just in time to pull away, to keep himself from finishing right there in her hand. "Jess," he gasped out, stumbling backwards to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Jessimyn smiled at him. "Should I lock the door?" She asked as she undid the first few buttons of her blouse.

"It's already locked," he said, his eyes intent on her hands. Any time they had shared a bed recently, it had been so dark that he'd never been able to see anything, but now he could see. And he wanted to see everything.

"How very presumptuous of you," she said in a teasing tone, fingers still slowly working at her buttons. Once the blouse was unbuttoned, she pulled it off in an excruciatingly slow manner, first exposing one breast, then the other before the top was finally dropped to the floor. She took a few steps toward him, and Alistair's hands shot out to stroke her breasts as she began removing her trousers. When those, too, fell the floor, he pulled her forward so that she ended up straddling one of his knees. He leaned forward to take a nipple between his teeth when he felt Jessimyn's hand on him again.

"Jess," he gasped again. "I can't... I'm not going to last if you don't... if you keep..."

She took a step back. "Scoot back," she told him, and Alistair pushed himself back further onto the bed.

She crawled after him, on her hands and knees as she moved up over his body. Her hair fell down to tickle at his chest as she kissed her way along his throat and down to run her tongue over his chest. The warmth of her lips trailed further down, and then he felt her mouth closing over him. He closed his eyes, grabbing at her hair while her mouth moved up and down over his length. He felt a tightening in his groin, and it wasn't long before he pushed her away to catch his seed in his hand as he climaxed. When his breathing returned to normal, he reached across the bed to the drawer in his little side table, where he pulled out a towel to wipe his hand. He kept them there for that specific purpose, though he had previously always been alone when he needed them. The thought brought a flush to his cheeks, but when he turned to look at Jessimyn, she was lying on her side, smiling at him.

But there was no reason to be embarrassed, he supposed. She had done similar things for him their first few times together. "Well, now that _that's _out of the way," Alistair said, and she laughed.

He moved over to her, pressing the length of his body against hers. He kissed his way across her shoulder, up her neck, until he got to her ear. His hands found her breasts as he tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. He heard her let out a soft moan as she arched her back, and he moved his hand down, across her stomach to dip between her legs. Jessimyn ran her fingers through his hair as he shifted to position himself better. Then he began rubbing her with his thumb as his fingers thrust inside her, and it wasn't long before she was crying out, practically coming up off the bed as her body seemed to spasm around him. Alistair kissed his way back up her body, finally finding her lips with his, and they wrapped their arms around each other tightly, as if trying to get just a little bit closer to each other.

As they embraced, they rubbed their bodies against each other. Jessimyn reached a hand between them, and it didn't take much before he was erect again. Alistair rolled her onto her back, positioning himself so that his knees were between hers. He took her hands, lifting them up so that her arms were up over her head. Her hair was spread out around her, and he just looked down at her for a moment.

"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful," he whispered, and he saw a blush rise in her cheeks. He ran his hands up and down her body, and she drew her knees up around him. Alistair shifted his hips forward, pressing against her before he pushed himself inside. He held very still for a moment, just enjoying the feel of her around him, before drawing back a little. Jessimyn lifted her hips up to him, and he thrust forward, burying himself as deeply inside her as he was able. He lifted one of her legs up to put over his shoulder as his thrusting increased in tempo.

As they found their rhythm, Jessimyn's moans increased in volume. Alistair was reminded of the time they were together in Highever, probably the only other time they were ever together when they didn't try to quiet themselves, when they didn't have to worry about being overheard. He realized he wanted to hear her cries. He shifted his weight so that he could move his hand down between them, and when he touched her, she moaned loudly, arching up against him. He did what he could to hold back, to last longer, but when she dragged her fingernails down his back, her body tightening around him, he could hold back no more. He groaned loudly and collapsed on top of her.

Alistair could feel the little tremors that seemed to continue to move through her body, and he lifted his head to look at her. She gave him a lazy smile, and he brushed a stray hair from her face. "Why did we wait so long to do that?" He asked with a grin, and Jessimyn laughed. He rolled to her side, pulling her with him so that the fronts of their bodies were touching. "Maker, Jess. I..." He began, but the words froze in his mouth. There were things he wanted to say, but he couldn't. Not yet.

Jessimyn smiled at him, kissing him on his lips, and then up until her lips brushed his ear. "Me, too," she whispered, and he crushed her to him.

He wanted to stay awake, to have her again when he was ready, but sleep was pulling at him. But then, there was no need to rush. They didn't have to sneak around anymore, didn't have to hide. She could sleep all night in his bed, and they could make love again in the morning, and there was no one else he had to worry about. Well, other than Ellynedra, of course, but even she seemed to approve of them together, in her own way. He held Jessimyn close as she snuggled up to him, pulling the blankets up to cover them both. As he drifted off into sleep, Alistair smiled, knowing he hadn't been quite so happy in a very long time.


	104. Jessimyn Chapter 104

Jessimyn stood in front of the mirror, wondering if the dress was supposed to be quite so tight. It was one Maura had recently sent, specific for the winter festival, but it seemed clingier than most of the things she'd made before. But then, maybe Jessimyn was not quite so skinny as she'd once been. Living in the palace, with rich foods available at every meal, did tend to make a person fill out a little. Jessimyn leaned forward into the mirror. Indeed, her breasts were a little fuller, her hips a little rounder. Well, it might be nice to look more like a woman and less like a pre-adolescent boy, she supposed. Besides, she figured she would need to be going back to Amaranthine for a short visit sometime soon. She would just have to get Maura to take some new measurements.

Until then, though, the dress would have to do. At least it was relatively modest, compared to some of the other items Maura had made for her. It left her shoulders completely bare, and it was a little lower cut in the front that she might have liked, but at least her back would be covered. The dress required a corset, but that was much better than wearing something that didn't allow for any underclothing at all. After all, she didn't want her clothing to give the nobles one more reason to gossip about her.

The Landsmeet had been held the day before. It was the first one she had attended since Fergus... and as she had stood off to Alistair's side, she had been able to feel the eyes on her. She wasn't sure what they had been expecting to see, but Jessimyn had managed to stay calm through the whole thing, though it had been an effort not to stare at the ground where... Instead, she had kept her eyes on Alistair. Her part in the whole thing was a silent one, as she was there only to listen and observe, so that the king could discuss things with her later, if needed. However, he had turned his head to look at her a few too many times, and it seemed people noticed. They weren't necessarily trying to _hide _their relationship, but discretion was definitely advised, especially since Teyrn Wulff's eyes seemed to bore into her with his disapproving glare.

Jessimyn sighed, turning around again to watch her reflection in the mirror. Yes, the dress was definitely too tight, especially in the bodice, even with the corset. She glanced at her wardrobe, but she knew there was nothing else in there that she could wear. There wasn't much in there at all anymore. She'd been sleeping in Alistair's room almost every night for the past six or seven months, since they had returned from Redcliffe the previous spring. After the first few weeks, he'd had her bring over most of her everyday clothes, as well as her necessary toiletries, to move them into his room. There was no reason for her to have to go back to her own rooms every morning to get dressed, although she still kept all of her more formal clothes there.

Also, that past summer, around Ellynedra's sixth birthday, Alistair had his daughter's things moved from the queen's chambers to one of the apartments set aside for the royal princes and princesses. She had been hesitant about moving until Alistair told her that, now that she was big girl, she needed to be in her own rooms. Jessimyn had been a little hesitant about the move, as she felt it was because of her that Ellynedra was being displaced, but Alistair assured her he'd been planning on moving his daughter at some point anyway. So now the rooms held for the queen lay empty and closed up.

There was a knock at the door, and Leliana entered, ready to fix Jessimyn's hair for her. There were other people who could have done it for her, but Leliana always insisted on doing it herself. She had just made it inside when she frowned. "Turn around," she said, and Jessimyn obliged. "Did Maura make that for you? It doesn't seem like it quite fits."

Jessimyn sighed. "Well, the last time she measured me was nearly two years ago. Why? Does it look bad?"

Leliana grinned. "Look at you, caring about what you look like. It doesn't look bad, but I think maybe you need to adjust yourself a little up top."

Putting a hand over her chest, Jessimyn asked, "What do you mean, adjust myself?"

"Oh, you know..." Leliana made a gesture with her hands. "You look a little... smashed in there. I could help, if you want."

Jessimyn smirked. "I think I can manage, thanks." She turned back to the mirror and adjusted her bodice. Once she had herself situated, she sat down so Leliana could do her hair. She left most of it down, to help cover the scars on her collarbone. When she was done, Leliana left. She had been invited to sit with the bann of White River's family for the feast. Jessimyn was on her own for the meal. Alistair had tried to get her to sit at the high table with him, but she convinced him it wouldn't be appropriate, so he would sit there with Ellynedra and his two teyrns. Jessimyn had a place at one of the higher tables saved for a few of the arls and banns who didn't have enough family there with them to require a whole table to themselves.

All through the meal, the man sitting across the table from her kept staring at her, though it was obvious he was trying not to. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. He had dark hair and eyes, but there was nothing about him that would have really made him stand out in a crowd. She waited for him to speak to her, but when he didn't, she finally said, "I'm sorry, but do I know you? You look terribly familiar."

The man blinked at her, surprised at being addressed. "Oh, ah... yes, I... my father is Arl Roderick of South Reach. But he has not been well, so I am here in his place."

The arl's eldest son, Kennett, was about her age, and she remembered him from her youth, but the man in front of her was clearly not the same person, as he was much too young. "Of course," she said. "I believe I knew your older brother. You look quite a bit like him."

The man looked down at his plate. "Yes, ah... Kennett died two years ago. He became ill that winter and never recovered. I'm Phillip."

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother," she replied. "I'm Jessimyn."

Phillip gave her a sheepish smile. "Oh, everyone knows who you are, my lady. In fact, we met once, probably... sixteen, seventeen years ago, but I'm sure you don't remember me. I was very young then."

Jessimyn recalled Jenya telling her about the arl of South Reach, about how he had stood up to Wulff in support of Jessimyn when he tried to tie her to Fergus' wrongdoings. "I don't remember, I'm sorry, but my mind is not what it used to be," she said with a smile.

Phillip returned the smile, and they spent the rest of the meal chatting with each other. As the dinner was coming to an end, Jessimyn happened to glance up at the high table and saw Alistair looking in her direction. He was giving her an odd look, but when she smiled at him, he returned the expression. Ellynedra looked up then, too, and she waved to Jessimyn. The princess then leaned over to say something to her grandfather, who was sitting on the other side of her. Wulff frowned at the little girl, then at Alistair, before turning the frown on Jessimyn. She just looked away, not wanting to get into a staring contest with a man who clearly didn't like her and had just been told Maker knew what.

Once the ball began, Jessimyn went to seek out Leliana or Jenya, but Phillip stopped her and asked her to dance. When the dance was over, Alistair was there. In fact, Alistair seemed to be there a little more than was appropriate, and again, people began to notice. Jessimyn could feel the eyes on them as they danced, especially Wulff's, as he seemed to be nearby whenever they were together.

Towards the end of the evening, Alistair whispered to her. "I hate this."

"Hate what?" She asked.

"Having to pretend that we aren't... You should be at my side. I shouldn't have to watch you from across the room," he said.

Jessimyn smiled at him. She could smell the wine on his breath, but then she'd had more to drink than she usually did as well. Perhaps that was why she hadn't found the ability to refuse him a dance, to insist he ask others. "You won't be across the room later tonight," she whispered to him. "I'll be at your side then... or beneath you, or on top. However you'd like me."

Alistair grunted, his hand tightening on her waist. "How about all three?" He asked in a low voice.

She laughed lightly. "But for now, you need to dance with some of the other women. In fact, I think I'm going to retire for the night, but I'll be waiting for you in your rooms when you get there."

Alistair scowled at her. "You're really going to leave me here, with those thoughts in my head?"

"Well, it certainly wouldn't do for us to leave together," she replied. "Besides, if I leave, then you'll be better able to pay attention to the others here."

He quirked his lips at her, but he didn't say anything to that. Alistair had to know that she was right, that he needed to mingle more. She didn't want to give the nobles a reason to talk about the two of them, but she didn't want him offending anyone, either. When the song ended, they parted ways. She went to find Leliana and Jenya to bid them goodnight, and then she left the hall to go to Alistair's rooms.

Even though Alistair had given her free use of his rooms, she still knocked. Eldryn would never deny her entrance, but she would have felt uncomfortable just walking in, no matter what the arrangement was. Eldryn offered her a curt bow when she went into the room, but then he went back to his own room. She went into the bedchamber and shut the door. Her dress was quickly discarded, but the corset took longer to remove. Halfway through, Jessimyn realized she should have just waited for Alistair to return, to get his help with it, but it was too late for that now. Finally she got it off and crawled into the bed, clad only in her skin. The fire crackled in the hearth, and she quickly dozed off.

Raised voices awoke her, and she crawled out of bed, pulling a blanket around her as she padded softly to the door to press her ear against it. One of the voices belonged to Eldryn, but the other was not Alistair's. After a moment, she realized who it was.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," said Eldryn. "But I must ask you to come back tomorrow. His Majesty has not returned this evening yet, but..."

It was Wulff's voice that cut him off. "He and I have an urgent matter to discuss tonight, not that it's any business of yours. I am to wait here for him, and he should be along shortly."

Jessimyn frowned. Wulff had managed to word it so that it _almost_ seemed as if Alistair had asked him to come. Eldryn couldn't ask him to clarify without risk of offending the man. Of course, if he didn't ask, and it turned out Alistair had _not _invited Wulff to his rooms, then Eldryn risked angering his king. Jessimyn was almost positive Alistair did not know the man would be waiting there for him, but she could scarcely appear from his bedchamber, with only a blanket wrapped around her, to tell him so. She shivered, and not from the cold. She had a bad feeling about whatever was about to happen.

She sank to the floor near the door. Jessimyn knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but she was stuck in the bedchamber, so she figured she could either listen at the door or go back to bed, where she'd overhear just enough to probably drive her crazy. Besides, there was always the chance that Alistair would just throw the man from the room, since it didn't seem Eldryn was going to. It seemed an eternity before she heard the outer door open.

"Wulff," said Alistair, and he did not sound pleased. "What are you doing here?"

"Your Majesty," Wulff said. "I hope you will forgive my intrusion, but we need to talk."

"It's late." Alistair's reply was curt. "I can see you in the morning."

Wulff's next words came out in a rush. "We need to talk about what Ellynedra told me about you and that... woman."

Alistair's response was too soft, and the door muffled it enough that she couldn't hear what he said. Of course, he had to know she was there, as she had told him she would be. Wulff's voice lowered as well. Perhaps he thought Alistair was being quiet so the servants wouldn't overhear. Still, she stayed by the door, but Jessimyn only caught the occasional word after that. She heard her name a few times, as well as Ellynedra's. She started to ache and had just stood up to go back to bed when Wulff's voice rose.

"...and it's not right!"

There was a long pause, and then she heard Alistair's voice clearly. "Maybe you're right. But now I insist that you leave. It's late, and I'm tired."

Jessimyn felt her stomach twist. Maybe Wulff was right about what? She walked back to the bed and curled up on top of it, the blanket pulled securely around her, and she rolled so that her back was to the door. After a moment, she heard the outer door open and close, and then there was silence. The fact that Alistair did not come in right away only made her worry. Finally, she heard him enter the room. She only heard enough footsteps to put him in the center of the room, halfway between the bed and the door. Jessimyn knew that she should just roll over and look at him, but she couldn't. After what seemed like a long time, she heard the sounds of him undressing. The last few steps to the bed were taken on bare feet, and then she felt the bed dip as he moved up beside her. He molded himself to her, pressing his chest to her back as he put an arm around her.

"Are you awake?" He whispered.

"Yes."

He pulled at her gently so that she rolled onto her back. Alistair lay on his side, propped up on his elbow. He didn't have a shirt on, which seemed almost too distracting, but at least he'd kept his breeches on. Running a hand over the blanket, he asked, "Are you cold?"

"It _is_ winter," she said lightly.

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. "I suppose it is, at that." Alistair ran his fingers over her cheek, which was about the only part of her _not_ wrapped up in the blanket. "So... how much of that did you hear?"

"Some," she admitted. "A little. The beginning and the end, I guess." Jessimyn shivered and pulled the blanket more tightly around her.

Alistair sighed and put his arms around her, pulling her so that her head lay in the crook of his shoulder. "Well, whatever you may have heard, put it out of your mind. Wulff is an ass sometimes. He's wonderful with Ellynedra, but I think he feels that being her grandfather gives him the right to meddle in my personal life. As if I'm some wayward son and not his king."

"And... what about the part at the end, when you agreed with him?" She asked.

Alistair made a soft, disgusted sound. "Wulff apparently finds it highly inappropriate that there's even the possibility that you and I are... 'sneaking around together' was, I believe, how he put it. And I agree. So I think we're done."

Jessimyn sat up. "What do you mean, you think we're done?" She asked, and a strange, panicky feeling went through her.

Alistair sat up as well. "I mean I think we're done hiding, or anything like it. People are just going to have to get used to..." But then he trailed off, giving her a look. "What did you think I meant?" She didn't say anything, but her face must have shown something because Alistair laughed. "Maker, Jess. Why would you ever think that I would..." He shook his head and put both hands on the sides of her face.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "Maybe it's just Wulff who has me on edge. He... hates me, and he hates the idea of me being anywhere near you or Ned."

Alistair chuckled. "I know you think I'm a pushover at times, but I am not quite so easily swayed, especially about something where I feel so strongly." His expression turned serious, and he ran a thumb over her lips. "Jess, I... you know I..."

She nodded. "I know." And she _did _know, even if neither of them could say it. There were just things they couldn't say, not until they knew how Ellynedra would react, once she knew everything she hadn't yet been told.

Alistair pulled her into an embrace, although because her arms were bound up in the blanket, all she could do was lean forward so that her head rested against his. He grinned at her. "You're all tied up in that thing, aren't you?" He asked, and she only realized what he was about to do the minute before he did it.

"No!" She shrieked, but it was too late. Alistair knocked her over, pinning her down as he reached for her legs to tickle the backs of her knees. "Stop!" She managed to gasp out as she struggled to get away from him.

He finally did stop, but then the look he gave her was different, and she realized why. The blanket had come loose in her struggle so that her shoulders and most of her breasts were uncovered. "Why, my dear lady," he said with a grin. "You didn't tell me you weren't wearing anything under there. Are you _completely _unclothed?" He pulled back on the blanket. "Why yes, yes you are. Hmm... I suddenly feel overdressed." Alistair kissed his way up her stomach before turning to remove his breeches. "I believe you promised yourself to me, in any way that I wanted you," he said as he tossed the last of his clothing aside. "Well, I want you in _every _way, so we best get started if we want to get any sleep tonight."


	105. Jessimyn Chapter 105

"So... who is he?" Maura asked.

Jessimyn stood atop a low stool, her hands held out to her side. Maura was wrapping her tape measure around the various parts of her body and making little notes in her book. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," Jessimyn said carefully.

Maura snorted. "You're not stupid, so don't play stupid with me. You've got yourself a man, and I want to know who it is."

"What makes you say that?" Jessimyn said, evading the question.

With a grin, Maura replied. "Just look at you." She grabbed her by the waist and turned her around so that she was facing the mirror. "The dark circles you used to always have under your eyes are gone. Your skin and hair look much healthier, probably because you're actually _eating _now." Jessimyn started to protest, but Maura waved her off. "Rian was always a healthy eater before, but I saw the difference in him when he became a Grey Warden. But you... you always picked at your food. I think maybe you were depressed before, but happiness has given you your appetite back. That's good. You were much too skinny before."

Jessimyn smirked at her. "And you think the only way I might find happiness is if I _got myself a man_?"

Maura grinned. "Well, it can't hurt, especially if the sex is good. So tell me. Who is it?"

There was no real reason not to tell her, but still Jessimyn hesitated. After all, she supposed word would be getting around soon enough. After the night of the ball, that past winter, Alistair had her sit next to him at all formal dinners. In the place of honor, though, rather than where a queen might sit. That place was still occupied by Ellynedra. She was also at his side as his consort ,in any circumstance that didn't require her to fill the role of adviser. There had been quite a lot of talk after that first night, and Leliana was quick to tell her of the buzz surrounding the two of them. Wulff had been one of the first to leave Denerim after the Landsmeet, which just seemed to increase the talk.

There had been some disapproving glares, though most had seemed to come from women who wished they could be in her place. It was a bit unsettling, but Jessimyn knew there was little she could do about it, and that hopefully such reactions would go away in time. However, there were also some similar reactions from a few of the noblemen, which Jessimyn didn't understand at all. One such reaction came from Phillip, who had seemed displeased when he saw Jessimyn and Alistair together, especially after the king put his hand on her back. When Jessimyn brought it up to Alistair, he had laughed, suggesting that perhaps the young man was jealous of _him._ She thought that an absurd idea, but then Alistair had added that he'd had a brief courtship with Phillip's older sister a few years back. That made more sense. Perhaps Phillip had tried to be friendly with Jessimyn to help his sister resume her previous place at the king's side.

"Well?" Maura asked again, poking her with a finger. "Stop daydreaming about him and tell me who he is."

Jessimyn gave her a sheepish smile. That wasn't _exactly _what she'd been doing, but it was close. "His name... his name is Alistair," she finally said.

Maura's eyes went a little wide. "The king," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You mean to tell me that you've been shacking up with the _king_?"

Jessimyn chuckled. It was almost strange, to be talking to someone who didn't already know the entirety of her history with him. She and Maura were close, and they had written each other back and forth since Jessimyn had gone to Denerim, and about more than just clothing, but they'd never discussed Alistair before. "Well, I'd like to think it's more than just that," Jessimyn said.

Maura cackled. "_More _than that, but _including _that," she said with a grin. "Well, that's good. I've often thought that what you've been needing is a man to give you a good, hard..."

"Maura!" Jessimyn cut in with a laugh. "Maker."

Maura smiled at her. "I notice you don't disagree," she said, waggling her eyebrows at her a little.

Jessimyn just shook her head. "You don't think it's..." She frowned. It was not a question she had been able to ask anyone else, as Leliana was the only person she really discussed Alistair with, and she already knew what the bard thought of the whole thing. "You don't think it's... suspicious, my being with him?" She asked.

Maura wrinkled her eyebrows, but for once, she didn't make a joke. "Should I?" She asked. "Are you confessing to something, or are you just asking how it looks to an outsider?" She paused for only a moment before continuing. "It will be... what, seven years this summer, since the queen was murdered? You still think people blame you for that?"

"Wouldn't you?" Jessimyn asked.

"Look... I used to have a brother, back in Oswin. Good for nothing, a bit of a drunk. He liked to get drunk and fight, and he seemed to do so any chance he got. One day, he was at a tavern, and there was someone there badmouthing me, my work. I guess I'd made some things for his wife, and... well, whatever it was, he and my brother exchanged words, and they got into a fight. My brother had been drinking for hours at that point, and he ended up beating the man to death. Now... is it _my _fault the man died? I felt guilty about it for a while, but in the end, it was only my brother who could be held responsible for what happened."

Jessimyn gave her a skeptical look. "That... didn't really happen," she said slowly.

Maura grinned at her. "Well, no, but the point is the same. In that case, it wouldn't have been my fault anymore than the queen's death is yours." She shook her head. "But what gave it away? I guess I should have known better than to think you'd believe that anyone would badmouth my work," she added with a smile. "Why do you ask, though?"

"Ned's grandfather isn't too keen on the whole thing," said Jessimyn. "And that's putting it mildly. Plus, Ned herself doesn't really know the whole story, and I don't know what she'll think of me, when she finally finds out."

"Ned... you mean the princess?" Maura asked, and Jessimyn nodded. "Well, really, who cares what her grandfather thinks?"

"Ned might, for one," Jessimyn answered.

Maura frowned. "Well, I suppose, but you're pretty close to the little girl, aren't you? That's what I've always gotten from your letters anyway."

Jessimyn couldn't help but smile. "She's a great kid," she said. "Sometimes, when it's just the three of us, I feel... I can almost pretend that she's mine, that they're both mine." She shook her head. "But it's not safe to think that because... who knows what may happen in the future?"

Maura was smiling at her. "You've got it bad, don't you?" She asked.

Jessimyn couldn't tell Maura anything she wasn't able to admit to herself. "We... we were close before, during the Blight, before he was king. We had talked then of marrying, of... but things change."

"I didn't know that," Maura said. "I mean, I knew you'd known the king before he was king, but I guess I didn't know how _well _you knew him." She grinned. "So will I soon get to be making clothing for the queen, then?"

Jessimyn blinked at her. "What? No, I..." She shook her head. "We don't talk about things like that," she said weakly.

Maura laughed. "Ah, I see. Too busy screwing like rabbits. I can understand that."

Jessimyn laughed. "Maker, Maura."

"Well, had I known you were bedding the king, I wouldn't have been quite so offended that it took you this long to come back for a visit. I suppose I can forgive you, now that I know the circumstances," she said, giving Jessimyn a wink.

In truth, it had been difficult for her to leave, more difficult that she had expected. The night before she had been set to depart, they had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, saying goodbye to each other. When it was finally time to leave, she had been much more weary than she would have liked, plus a little sore, but it had been worth it. Jessimyn hadn't really realized how quickly she had become accustomed to waking up beside him, and her bed felt lonely, empty, without him in it. Still, she knew she would only be gone for two months at most, but hopefully less, depending on how quickly Maura worked on her new clothes.

Leaving Ellynedra had been about as difficult as leaving Alistair. The little girl had clung to her the morning she was set to leave, and her tears as Jessimyn left had been enough to make her a little misty-eyed as well. In fact, it had been almost painful, when she had glanced over her shoulder at the two of them as she headed out from the palace. At least she should be back before Ellynedra's birthday. She had waited for spring to leave, but the princess' birthday was still a couple months off.

"Well, I'll work as quickly as I can," Maura said, as if reading Jessimyn's mind. "I'm sure you'll be wanting to get back as soon as possible."

When they were finished, Jessimyn went to go find Herich and Jandin, who had taken over the places left vacant by Berton and Jessimyn. Jandin has passed through Denerim on his way back from the south, and she already knew that they hadn't found anything on their most recent excursion. They hadn't even been able to find the site where all the darkspawn bodies were supposed to have been. Whatever was going on in the south just seemed to get more and more frustrating each year, and it became harder each time to find volunteers who wanted to go south whenever a new report came in. Many of them equated the trips as chasing after the wind, and Jessimyn couldn't necessarily disagree. Not since the last trip she'd been on, when she still had Berton, Zevran, and Kyran at her side, had anyone really found anything of interest, though they continued to get reports of darkspawn activity.

Being in Amaranthine again brought out a sadness in Jessimyn that she'd forgotten she had. There were too many memories there, too many memories of all the friends she had lost. She counted Zevran among them, as she had to be realistic and think she would likely never see him again. It had been his decision, and maybe it was the best for everyone, but it was still painful. Even the memories she had of the last month spent with Berton were bittersweet at best, for it just served as a reminder that someday she, too, would be resigned to the same fate. It had been almost fifteen years since she'd become a Grey Warden. That put her at the halfway point, and that was a little scary, when she thought about it. Amaranthine seemed to _make _her think about it.

Jessimyn spent a lot of time catching up with all the people she'd missed, being away from Amaranthine, but the days still seemed to pass by more slowly than she would have liked. When her clothing was finally finished, Jessimyn wasted no time in planning her departure. She set a hard pace on the trip back to Denerim, eager to be back. It was mid-afternoon when she finally made it through the gates of the palace. Catching the first servant she saw, she requested a tub be brought to her rooms immediately, so that she might bathe. She was nearly back to her rooms when Alistair found her.

"You're back," he said, coming to a stop in front of her. Jessimyn smiled at him, but she had hoped to make it back to her rooms before he found her. She was weary and dusty from travel, and had hoped to finish her bath before she saw anyone. Alistair's eyes slid to the men standing behind her, who were carrying some of her things. "Take those to my rooms," he ordered.

Jessimyn tried not to grimace, noticing the look that was passed between the two men before they turned to leave, carrying her new clothes with them. "Alistair..." she said softly. "Are you _trying _to make sure everyone knows I spend every night in your rooms?"

He smiled at her, putting an arm around her waist. "I've missed you, too," he said. "Besides, you really think there's anything that goes on in this place that the servants _don't _know about?"

Jessimyn tried to pull back from him, but the arm around her waist wasn't giving way. Her hair was dirty, and she knew she couldn't possibly smell as good as she would have wanted, with him being so close. "Knowing that they know about it and flaunting it in front of them are two different things," she said.

Alistair's lips quirked down into a frown. "Am I supposed to be ashamed of us?" He asked, his voice pitched low, his tone... dangerous. "Are you?" He scowled and took a step back. "Maker, Jess. You were supposed to come back and be happy to see me. You..."

"I am," she said with a sigh. "I just... I'm tired and dirty, and I just want a bath."

"Of course," he said, his voice even.

Jessimyn reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze, and Alistair smiled at her, bringing it up to kiss her fingers. "They should be filling one in my room as we speak," she said. "The problem, though, is that you just had all my clean things taken to your rooms."

"Ah, well..." He grinned at her. "I'll just have to bring something to you, then. Go on, go have your bath. When you're done, we can go find Nedda. She's been asking every day when you're going to be back."

He turned and followed in the direction the men had gone with her things, and Jessimyn continued on to her room. When she got there, the bath was filled and waiting. She rolled up a towel on one end of the tub before peeling off her armor. The water was almost too hot, but she welcomed the heat on her aching muscles. She immersed herself completely in the water, staying under as long as possible before coming up for air. The towel on the edge of the tub made for a makeshift pillow, and she leaned back and closed her eyes. She must have dozed for a moment because a sudden noise made her sit up with a start. She turned her head to see Alistair sitting there, the look on his face one she knew all too well.

"I brought you something to wear," he said with a grin.

Jessimyn sunk down into the water. "Well... by all means, make yourself at home," she said.

Alistair chuckled. "I'll go if you wish, but I'll probably pout about it a little, so... it's up to you." He grabbed a cushion from one of the chairs and moved to sit on the floor next to the tub. "I just..." He ran his fingers over her shoulder. "I missed you."

"I... missed you, too," she said. "But I'm disgusting right now."

He laughed. "I've seen when you were completely covered in blood and sweat, and you weren't disgusting then." He seemed to think that over. "Well... okay, yes you were, but..." He shrugged and leaned forward to kiss her. "I'll leave if you want me to." He seemed to think of something. "Or are you just worried that the servants will know I'm in here while you're having a bath?"

Jessimyn sighed. "Alistair, I'm not..." She shook her head. "Look, I'm a private person. I know there's no way to keep all of our personal affairs private, but... that doesn't mean we have to announce them, either. People know that we're... together, and that's fine. But they don't necessarily need to know just _how _together we are." She reached out a hand to him. "Look, you're the king, so maybe people are more accepting of... things with you, but..." She couldn't quite meet his eyes as she continued. "We're not married, but we're sleeping together. Not everyone is accepting of such things, especially when they're flaunted. We can still be discrete even if we're not trying to hide our relationship."

Alistair moved around to the end of the tub, gesturing for her to lift a leg out of the water. When she did, he began rubbing her foot. "I guess I don't understand," he said. "Are you that worried about what other people think? Because you've never struck me as that sort of person."

Leaning her head back to rest on the towel, Jessimyn sighed softly. "Maybe you _don't _understand. Maybe you can't. It's... different for men."

His hands paused on her foot, and she lifted her head to look at him. He was frowning. "What exactly is it that you're afraid of, Jess? Because sometimes I think you go looking for things to fight about. Sometimes I think you try to find reasons for why you can't just let yourself be happy. Do you really think there's a servant in this entire place who isn't aware that we're sleeping together? Think about it, Jess. There are people who come clean your rooms, and I'm sure they've noticed that you haven't slept in your own bed for months now. You come to my rooms every night and don't leave until the morning, and I'm sure _that _has been noticed. Most mornings I have breakfast brought for us, so everyone in the kitchen is aware that I have company in my rooms at an early hour. And, not to be crude, but I'm sure the servants who work in the laundry have noticed that certain activities seem to take place on the sheets that go on my bed. None of these things have ever seemed to bother you before, so why are you so bothered now, when all I did was tell those men to take your things to my rooms? You would have just ended up bringing them yourself in a day or two, and you know what? Someone would have noticed _that_."

The defensive tone in her voice could not be helped. "I'm not looking for a fight. I just..." Jessimyn lowered herself further into the water. "I don't like the idea of being seen as your mistress, though it seems I once again find myself in that position."

Alistair splashed water in her face, and she gave him a startled look. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, a half-smile on his face. "If that's what you were, wouldn't we be _trying _to hide everything? The fact that we're not shows that it's more than just that. Besides," he added as he went back to rubbing her foot. "Can an unmarried man even _have _a mistress?" He seemed to ponder that for a moment. "Of course, you know... there's _one _way we could avoid all of these issues, if they really bother you." When she raised her eyebrows at him, he grinned. "We could just get married."

Her heart thudded in her chest at his words, and her mouth seemed to go dry. But he was... kidding. Wasn't he? Yes, he had to be, especially considering the grin he was giving her. But then it changed to something else, and Jessimyn wondered what expressions just passed over her own face. "Well, that would never work," she said lightly, teasingly, and she smiled at him. "Were my parents still alive, they would never approve." When he gave her a look, she grinned. "They would never want me to marry beneath my station, after all."

Alistair snorted. "Really? A king is beneath your station?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "There have been lots of kings of Ferelden, but how many _heroes _have there been?"

He smirked at her. "That hero business could have just as easily applied to me. I let you take the Archdemon, you know. I figured it was the gentlemanly thing to do."

Jessimyn laughed. "Oh really? Because the way I remember it, you were practically unconscious at that point."

"No, no," he said with a smile. "You clearly misremember things." His eyes moved from her face to travel down her body. "So are you... almost done with your bath yet?"

"I just have to wash my hair," she replied.

With a nod, Alistair stood up. "Well, be quick about it," he said before he began removing his clothing.

"And just what do you think _you're _doing?" She asked with a smile.

"As soon as you get out of that tub, I'm going to bend you over the edge of your bed," he said in a low voice, and Jessimyn felt a rush of heat. "And don't dry off. I want you wet."

It was a little over an hour later before she finally managed to get dressed. As he was given no specific instructions, Alistair had brought her a dress from the trunks of clothing Maura had made for her. At least the neckline was cut high enough that it covered the bite marks he'd left on her shoulders, though she had to leave her hair unbraided so as to cover the ones he'd left on the back of her neck, which he had seemed almost proud to point out to her.

"What can I say?" He asked with a grin. "My enthusiasm for you knows no bounds."

He held her hand as they walked down the hallway to go find the princess. Every time they passed someone, it took an effort for Jessimyn not to pull away from him. Maybe Alistair was right, maybe she was being silly to think that people weren't already aware of what was going on between them. And maybe, she realized with a start, she just didn't know how to act in a relationship that wasn't a hidden one. Any of the trysts she'd had while still in Highever, for none could really be called _relationships_, had been hidden from her parents and brother. Even when she was with Alistair the first time, they had been careful of what they showed to anyone who wasn't in their immediate group of friends. It was almost strange to think that Alistair, who had come to her as a virgin, had more experience with actual relationships than she did.

But all of those thoughts fled as soon as she saw Ellynedra. The little girl shrieked and launched herself at Jessimyn, nearly knocking her to the ground. "You're back! You're back!" She kept saying over and over again.

Jessimyn laughed. "Good to see you, too, Ned. Have you gotten bigger? I think you're taller than you were when I left."

Ellynedra smiled at her. "Well, I'm almost seven now," she said.

Alistair had dinner brought to his rooms, so that the three of them ate in private. Alistair let Ellynedra stay up later than usual, but when he finally told her it was time for bed, the princess insisted that it be Jessimyn who read her a story and tucked her in. Alistair just gave them both an amused look as Ellynedra dragged Jessimyn back to her own rooms. Once the little girl was in her nightgown, Jessimyn sat down next to her on the edge of her bed and opened the book she'd been reading with her father. Once the chapter was finished, Jessimyn set the book aside and started to stand up to go, but Ellynedra grabbed her hand.

"Wait," she said. "You have to get me my stuffed rabbit," she said, pointing to her toys. Once Jessimyn retrieved it, Ellynedra said, "And now you have to kiss me on the forehead." Jessimyn smiled and leaned down to do just that. "And now you have to tell me that you love me," she said.

Reaching a hand out to smooth the hair back from the princess' face, Jessimyn said, "I love you, Ned."

"Love you more," Ellynedra proclaimed proudly. Jessimyn once again started to leave, and once again she was stopped. "Wait, Jess..." She turned to look at the little girl, who suddenly looked so serious. "I don't... I don't want you to leave like that again, okay?"

Jessimyn smiled at her. "Did you miss me?" She asked.

Ellynedra nodded. "Yes. And Dadders was so grumpy when you were gone." Jessimyn laughed, and Ellynedra giggled along with her. "But... Jess? Can I..." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can tell me anything," Jessimyn replied.

The princess nodded but suddenly seemed hesitant to continue. "Sometimes... Sometimes I... Do you think it's bad if sometimes I pretend that you're my mother?"

Jessimyn's breath caught in her throat, and she had to swallow a few times before she could speak. "Sometimes I pretend the same thing," she whispered, giving the little girl's hand a squeeze.

"So you don't think it's bad, then?" Ellynedra asked, the worry clear on her face.

Jessimyn's mind worked frantically, trying to come up with a response. "Well... does it make you happy, to pretend that?" She asked, and Ellynedra nodded. "It makes me happy, too, so no, I don't think it's bad." She wanted to tell her that she hoped Ellynedra would always think of her that way, but she figured that might be going a little too far.

"Okay," Ellynedra said with a smile, clearly content with the answer she'd been given, and Jessimyn was finally allowed to leave.

"What are you grinning about?" Alistair asked her when she returned to his rooms, and Jessimyn put a hand to her face, not realizing she had been.

"Nothing," she said, but he gave her a skeptical look. "Just... something Ned told me."

"And what was that?" He prodded.

Jessimyn smiled and shook her head. "I can't tell. She said it was a secret."

It wasn't until later, as they lay in bed, limbs entwined, the sweat cooling on their bodies, when he asked again. "So what did Nedda tell you?" He traced little symbols over her stomach with a finger. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you two keeping secrets from me," he added before tilting his head to kiss along her shoulder.

Smiling lazily, Jessimyn ran her fingers through his hair. "It wasn't that sort of secret."

"Tell me," he whispered in her ear before pulling her earlobe into his mouth.

She arched her back, lost in the sensation for a moment before he released her. But she wasn't sure she _wanted _to tell him, unsure of how he would react. When she didn't say anything, he seized a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching down with just the right amount of pressure, as if he could coerce her into telling him. However, he didn't seem to take into account the reaction he would get from her, or the fact that he could be easily distracted.

It was just as she was finally dozing off that he tried one last time. "You really aren't going to tell me?" He asked in a whisper.

Jessimyn felt like her eyes were sealed shut, and she was so tired that she could barely move as he pulled her to him. "She just told me..." She yawned, letting her weariness pull her under. Alistair's hand on her stomach gave her a little jolt. "She said... that sometimes... she likes to pretend that I'm her... that I'm her..."

He supplied the word she'd been looking for. "Mother?" He asked, his breath hot on her ear.

"Mmm..." Jessimyn murmured in agreement.

His arms seemed to tighten around her, and maybe he even said something, but she couldn't be sure. Jessimyn had spent most of the day traveling, and much of the rest of it had been spent engaged in various activities with a man who was determined to show her just how much he'd missed her. She was exhausted. Though a large part of her wanted to hear Alistair's reaction, sleep was beckoning to her, and she could no longer ignore its call.


	106. Alistair Chapter 106

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Transition chapter is transition-y. And very short. More actual plot next time 'round._

Alistair just lay there for a while, watching her sleep. She wouldn't have liked it, had she known what he was doing, but Jessimyn was apparently far too exhausted to be putting forth any protests. He would have liked to take credit for her weariness, but he knew the long days of travel probably played a part in it as well. Blankets were pushed down to her waist, and he trailed his fingers up and down her torso, extra attention paid to the scars that marked her. She made a small sound when he touched the ones at her shoulder and face, but she didn't wake up. He winced when he noticed he'd left a few more bite marks on her body, although none of them were in places that wouldn't be covered with her clothing.

Remembering what she'd said Ellynedra had told her tugged his lips into a smile. Jessimyn hadn't mentioned how his daughter's revelation made her feel, but he recalled the grin on her face when she'd returned from putting the princess to bed. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who thought of the three of them as a family, then. A family was all he had ever really wanted, one of the first things he ever remembered wishing for, probably from the time he was Ellynedra's age or younger. He ran his hand over her hip, realizing how close he was to having just that. And yet...

Alistair had seen the panicked look on her face when he had mentioned marriage, even if it _was _mostly in jest. Sometimes he just didn't understand her. Jessimyn seemed happy enough when they were together, but whenever he tried to take another step, she balked. Maker forbid he ever actually _did _propose to her, he thought with a sad smile. Of course, it was probably crazy to even think of such things, to make any long-term plans, no matter how he felt about her.

Hands moved up her body to cup her breasts, and he watched her face for a response, but there was none. He leaned down to flick his tongue over a nipple, but there was still no reaction from her. She was definitely asleep, then. Alistair put his arms around her and gently pulled her to him. He nuzzled her neck and whispered, "Jess?" He wanted to check one more time, but she didn't answer, lost to the exhaustion that had claimed her almost as soon as she had rolled off of him. Maybe it was cowardly, but he wanted her to be asleep. It was safer that way. Soft kisses were pressed up along her jaw before his mouth stopped by her ear. He took a deep breath, then whispered the words he'd been wanting to say for a while. "I love you, Jess."

His heart thudded in his chest when she made a small sound, but Jessimyn's eyes remained closed. He stayed very still for a moment, but if she had heard him, she made no indication of it. With a soft sigh, he settled himself next to her. But did it really matter if she had heard? She had to know how Alistair felt about her. He liked to think she felt the same, though he knew she would never tell him so. At least, not until matters with Ellynedra were settled. Of course, Alistair knew that was the cause of her hesitation, in everything they did. Jessimyn had once told him that everyone she cared about seemed to leave her, and he knew she was afraid that Ellynedra would not be able to accept what Fergus had done, afraid that she would end up losing the two people she cared about.

In a way, Alistair just wanted to tell his daughter everything, to get it over with. He knew it would be a difficult thing, for her to hear how her mother had died, but he believed that, in time, she would come to realize that Jessimyn had had nothing to do with it. But at the same time, Alistair wished he _never _had to tell her, because there was still that small fear that she would not understand, that she would not accept, and if that happened, it would change everything. Of course, she wasn't even seven yet, and he could still use the excuse that she was too young. But with every year that passed, that excuse grew thinner and thinner.

And the years _did _pass, as they had a tendency to do. For the most part they were happy, his little makeshift family. There was always some tension every year around the time of the Landsmeet. Wulff refused to spend any time in Jessimyn's presence, and the huge fights _that_ had prompted had finally been settled with agreeing that Ellynedra would visit with her grandfather by herself. Occasionally Alistair would accompany his daughter to the teyrn's rooms, but Wulff never came to his, for he knew that Jessimyn would likely be there. The whole thing seemed to bother Alistair more than it did Jessimyn, and she usually just made herself scarce whenever Wulff was in Denerim.

But once the gossip surrounding the two them died down, their lives became almost dull, at least to those observing from the outside. Alistair would find himself smiling at the strangest moments, to think that the passion they shared had become part of normal, everyday life, especially when there had been a time when he'd believed he would never feel that way again. The following spring, when Jessimyn needed to go back to Amaranthine again, Alistair and Ellynedra had gone with her, and from there they had gone on to Highever, to visit Jenya, Bryce, and Lyla. Ellynedra had found it interesting to see where Jessimyn had grown up, but Alistair had been able to see that the trip was harder for Jessimyn than she may have liked to admit. All pictures or other references to Fergus had been removed from the castle, but that didn't mean Jessimyn didn't still have the memories of him to haunt her. The day before they were set to leave, the two of them went to visit the monument built for Duncan on the bluffs overlooking the Waking Sea, and it had been the first time he'd seen her really relax since they had arrived.

It was shortly after Ellynedra's tenth birthday when Alistair began to start seriously considering how he was going to tell his daughter about her mother. At ten, he could no longer pretend that she wasn't old enough to understand the things he would have to tell her. The questions he had revolved around _how _he would tell her, and when. He thought long and hard about what exactly he would say, and he tried to decide whether he would tell her by himself, or if he wanted Jessimyn to be there with them. But even once he had all of those things figured out, he still hesitated.

Alistair knew that he couldn't wait much longer. Now that Ellynedra had gotten to the point when she was "old enough," he didn't want her to get much older without having the conversation. He knew that, the older she was, the less likely she'd be to be able to accept the things he told her, as well as to forgive him for keeping it from her. But knowing those things didn't make it easier. There were many times he came close to telling her, only to let the moment pass.

Whenever he watched Jessimyn and Ellynedra together, something pulled at him. Seeing them together always seemed so sweet, when he would catch them laughing together about something, or when they sat together on the couch, or even when he would go out to the practice yards to seem them training together. There was definitely a bond between them, and he didn't like the idea that it could be broken. But then, if Ellynedra truly saw Jessimyn as a mother figure, surely she would be able to forgive her, if there was even anything for which Jessimyn needed forgiveness. Only time would tell if his little family would be able to survive. He prayed to the Maker that it would.

_AUTHOR'S NOTE (continued): My apologies to Stephen King, from whom I borrowed the idea for one of the above paragraphs. His text comes from the book _Wizard and Glass_, and is thus: "_True love, like any other strong and addicting drug, is boring – once the tale of encounter and discovery is told, kisses quickly grow stale and caresses tiresome... except, of course, to those who share the kisses, who give and take the caresses while every sound and color of the world seems to deepen and brighten around them. As with any other strong drug, true first love is really only interesting to those who have become its prisoners."


	107. Jessimyn Chapter 107

Jessimyn sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. She had always done her best to make sure she never stepped in the middle of a disagreement between Alistair and Ellynedra, yet she had managed to do just that without even realizing it. They were all in the king's sitting room. Ellynedra looked almost triumphant, while Alistair's expression was more irritated than anything else. Well, it was hardly her fault. The princess' question had seemed innocent enough, so why wouldn't Jessimyn have answered it truthfully? How was she supposed to know it had been prompted by a conversation the two of them had had earlier that day, when Jessimyn wasn't around?

But then, maybe she should have realized what the look on Alistair's face had meant, when Ellynedra asked Jessimyn how old she had been the first time she'd attended a Landsmeet. Maybe if she'd had to think about the answer, the pause would have made her realize he didn't want her to answer it, but she could easily remember the first time she'd gone with her father to a Landsmeet. She had been ten years old, and Oren had just been born. Fergus, who normally went with her father, had stayed home with Oriana and his new son, and Jessimyn had begged and pestered her father to allow her to go with him instead, until he finally gave in. So when Ellynedra asked, Jessimyn had answered.

"I was ten," she said, and Alistair groaned.

"See?" She said with a smile, turning her attention to her father. "Ten's not too young to go. Jess got to go when _she _was ten, so why can't I?"

Alistair shot her a look, and Jessimyn gave him her best apologetic smile. "We've already had this conversation, Nedda," he said. "Don't try to bring Jess into it when I already told you no. I'm sure she doesn't appreciate it any more than I do."

"But Dadders..." Ellynedra protested, and Jessimyn tried not to smile. She had stopped calling him that a few years earlier, except when she wanted something, and Alistair was such a sucker for his daughter's old pet name for him that he usually gave in.

Sure enough, his expression softened a little. "I don't even understand why you'd _want _to go," he said. "You'd be bored, and I'm not sure you could make it through the entire meeting without fidgeting." Ellynedra just smiled at him, knowing that she nearly had him, and Alistair scowled. "We can talk about this later," he said. "It's time for you to get ready for bed."

For once, she didn't argue with him about that. "Okay," she said, giving him a hug before she skipped off to her rooms.

"Sorry," Jessimyn said once Ellynedra was gone.

Alistair waved a hand. "Not your fault," he grumbled. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before she started trying to play us against each other." He shook his head. "I don't understand the sudden interest in attending the Landsmeet, though."

"Well, why don't you want her to go?" Jessimyn asked.

He frowned at her. "She's... too young. She'd make it about ten minutes before she'd be wanting to leave. I mean... weren't you bored, the first time you went to one?" He grinned. "I know _I_ was bored for my first one... well, my first Landsmeet after becoming king, anyway. The one that _made _me king was a little exciting."

Jessimyn chuckled. "Of course I was bored at my first one, but I didn't let my father see that. I remember being so intent on how grown up I was, attending a Landsmeet with all of the adults, that I paid very little attention to what was going on. But you know... and I'm not trying to question your decisions concerning Ned, but I think it might be good for her. I think she should start attending court sometimes, too. She _is _growing up, whether you want to admit it or not, and she needs to be able to start thinking like the queen she'll become some day." She moved closer to him, resting a hand on Alistair's knee. "Or is that what your real worry is?"

Putting an arm around her, Alistair pulled her closer. "She's not supposed to grow up," he said sullenly. "Doesn't she know that?" He leaned his head against Jessimyn's. "But if I agree that she's old enough to let her go to the Landsmeet, then that means there's _really _no reason why I shouldn't have the Lyrina-Fergus conversation with her as well." Jessimyn didn't say anything to that. As much as she didn't like the idea, she'd been carefully prodding him into having the talk with Ellynedra for the past few months. He'd gotten irritated with her the last time she'd brought it up, so she stopped mentioning it. "You know," he said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You're allowed to have an opinion on things like this, concerning Nedda."

Jessimyn nodded. "I... I know. And I gave it to you."

Alistair smiled. "I mean, you can come out and just say you think I'm wrong about something. It's not like I can't tell when you're thinking it." He ran a finger down the side of her neck. "It's not like I think I'm the one with all the insight here."

Jessimyn smiled at him. "Oh, I never thought that."

"Oh, ha ha," he said. His finger moved from her neck to the front of her blouse, and he pulled her forward to press his lips against hers. With a hand on her back, he eased her back on the couch, his mouth staying pressed to hers. His hand was on her thigh when there was a noise at the door.

"I forgot I was going to... Ugh." Ellynedra had barely stepped inside, saw them, then turned around and left.

"Maker's breath," Alistair sighed, pulling the two of them upright, though the princess was already gone. He groaned and stood up, taking a step towards the door as if to go after her, but Jessimyn grabbed his hand.

"Do you want _me _to go talk to her?" She asked.

"Maybe... that would be better," he agreed, and Jessimyn tried not to smile.

It was quite obvious that Alistair had no desire to go talk to his daughter about what she'd just seen. Not that she hadn't seen them kiss before, not that they'd been doing anything more than just kissing, but they'd always been vertical any of the previous times the princess had seen them. Jessimyn patted Alistair on the shoulder as he sat back down, and she left his rooms to go to Ellynedra's. Her knock wasn't immediately answered, so she knocked again.

"What?" Ellynedra called through the door.

"May I come in?" Jessimyn called back, and after a moment, the door opened. Ellynedra didn't meet her eye as she went inside and sat down. "Listen, what you just saw..."

"Oh, please," Ellynedra said, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like I don't know you two... do stuff."

Jessimyn's eyebrows lifted. "Stuff?" She asked. She couldn't help it, although she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Ellynedra waved a hand. "You know... like kiss and stuff."

"Yes, well..." Jessimyn sighed. "I'm sorry you had to... walk in on it. We will try to make sure it doesn't happen again. Although... maybe it would be a good idea if, after you've already gone to bed for the night but need to come back to your father's rooms, that you... knock first? Before just walking in?"

Ellynedra scowled. "I don't think it's _my _fault that you two have to... be like that all the time," she said, her voice just as sullen as Alistair's had been earlier. "But fine, I'll try to remember to knock, if you try to remember not to be so gross in front of me."

Jessimyn chuckled. "You know, someday you won't think it's quite so gross."

Her hands suddenly seemed to pull her attention as Ellynedra replied. "I don't think _kissing _is gross, I just think it's gross when I have to see my parents doing it."

While it made Jessimyn happy to hear Ellynedra refer to her as a parent, that was not the part of her statement that made her peer at the little girl. "You only think kissing is gross when Alistair and I do it, but not when... you do it? Have you..."

"No!" Ellynedra said quickly, though her face flushed a bright red.

Jessimyn smiled a little. "But... there's someone you'd _like _to kiss? Is that it?"

"No," said Ellynedra again, though it had no power behind it. "Maybe... but he thinks I'm just a baby."

Everything seemed to fall into place. "Ah... and that's why you want to go to the Landsmeet, isn't it? You think that, if this boy sees you there, sees how grown up you are, then he won't think you're a baby anymore. Is that it?"

Ellynedra jerked her head up, a look of panic on her face. "Don't... you can't tell father. Please. He'd never let me go if he knew..." Her face seemed to go even redder.

Jessimyn smiled at her, sitting down next to the princess. "He might not, it's true," she admitted, wondering how his daughter's first crush would play into his whole wish that she remain a little girl forever. "I won't lie to him, but I won't bring it up, either." She grinned. "So who is it?" She asked.

"Jess..." Ellynedra said, and then she giggled.

"Is it... someone from Denerim?" Jessimyn asked, and Ellynedra shook her head. "Someone who will be in Denerim for the Landsmeet?" The princess nodded at that. "You don't have a crush on some arl or bann who's old enough to be your father, do you? Because I'm not sure I can approve of that," she teased.

"Jess! Eww, no," Ellynedra replied, giggling again.

"All right, that's good," Jessimyn said with a smile. Then she realized she knew who it was. She glanced at the princess. "So... obviously this boy is older than you by a few years. Is he... someone we've gone to visit, not too long ago?" Ellynedra pressed her lips together, glancing up at Jessimyn. "Is it Bryce?" She asked, and the princess bit her bottom lip before she finally nodded.

But really, who else could it be? Ellynedra was not often around any other children, and when they'd been in Highever, she had trailed after Bryce like an adoring puppy. All the signs were there. Jessimyn had probably been about the same age when she'd started noticing boys for the first time, but for Ellynedra's first crush to be on Fergus' son... well, it just added another complication to the list. She ruffled the princess' hair. "I'll talk to Alistair and see if he'll agree to let you go to the Landsmeet, but I can't promise anything." Jessimyn said, and Ellynedra grinned.

"Oh, thank you, Jess," she said, throwing her arms around her.

"But no kissing," Jessimyn added. "At least not for a few more years. Let's take it a little easy on your father."

Ellynedra giggled again. "Okay," she said, her cheeks still a little pink. "Do you think..." She licked her lips nervously. "Do you think you and he will ever..."

"Ever what?" Jessimyn prompted when the princess trailed off.

"Nothing," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Nothing. Goodnight, Jess."

When Jessimyn got back to Alistair's rooms, he was not in his sitting room. She found him in his bedchamber, stripped down to just his breeches as he stood in front of a window, looking out onto the balcony that overlooked his garden. There was no snow on the ground yet, but it was still too cold to go outside. He turned to face her as she went through the door, and Jessimyn wondered if he'd chosen to stand there on purpose, if he knew how the light hit him just so, and she exhaled slowly as he crossed the room to stand in front of you.

Putting an arm around her, Alistair smiled. "It's nice to see that you still look at me that way, even after all these years," he murmured as he reached up to run a finger down her cheek, ending beneath her chin to tilt it up.

"Mmm..." she said softly as he brushed his lips over hers. "You're still pretty sexy. You know, for an old man."

He grunted, pulling at her so they were sitting side by side on the bed. "So... is she..."

"Ned's fine," she assured him. "Not too traumatized. She agreed to knock before entering your rooms, if she knows we're not expecting her, and I promised that we would try to make sure she doesn't have to watch her parents... being romantic with each other."

Alistair grinned, obviously catching the words she used. "Her parents, huh?"

Jessimyn nodded. "Those were the words she used," she said.

"I'm glad she feels that way about you," he said softly, nuzzling at her neck. Then he sighed. "All right," he said. "She can go to the Landsmeet. And after it's over, once everyone has gone home... I'll have the talk with her. I can't keep putting it off." Jessimyn nodded, but she shivered, as if someone had thrown cold water over her head. Alistair frowned at her. "You're really..." He put his hands on the sides of her face. "You're really worried about this, aren't you?" He asked.

"Of course I am," she replied. "But it's better to just... get it over with. At least then I'll know where I stand... one way or the other."

The look he gave her was pained, and Alistair pressed his forehead to hers. "Jess, I... I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I'll always..."

But she silenced him with her fingers, pressed gently to his lips. If he was going to say what she thought he was going to say, she didn't want to hear it. "Not yet," she whispered. "Not now, not with this hanging over our heads."

Alistair nodded, but he had a hurt look in his eyes. "Very well," he said after a moment. Then he put on a smile. "Come on, let's get you out of those clothes and into bed. Nedda's not here now, so we can be as... _romantic _as we want."

The Landsmeet was less than a month away, and some of the nobles were already arriving. Jessimyn, who had Leliana there to help, aided Ellynedra in finding a suitable dress to wear. Once Jenya and family arrived in Denerim, Ellynedra seemed to be always at Jessimyn's side, willing her to find a reason to go visit them. It was cute, really, because then she would completely ignore Bryce, only looking at him when she didn't think he was looking at her. Bryce, like most boys his age, was completely oblivious to the attention being given him, although his mother noticed.

"So," said Jenya one evening, when she and Jessimyn had a bit of privacy. "It would seem the princess has a bit of a crush on my son."

"She does," Jessimyn admitted with a laugh. "Although she'll be devastated to know she's not quite so subtle about it as she thinks."

Jenya gave her a smile smile. "Funny, how things work out sometimes," she said casually. "The princess and Fergus' son, the king and Fergus' sister." Jessimyn winced and looked away, and Jenya patted her hand. "If you love someone, then you love them. Just because it's what Fergus would have wanted, it doesn't mean it's wrong to want it, too."

"Yes," Jessimyn said. "But there are others who would think otherwise."

"Oh, bugger what other people think," Jenya said testily, and Jessimyn smiled.

"So how are things between you and Jandin?" She asked, and by Jenya's expression, she knew she had guessed correctly as to what the woman's outburst had really been about.

"Oh... he's quite lovely, when I actually get the chance to see him," she admitted, smiling a little. "I even started putting in orders with that seamstress you use. Maura. Just to give me an excuse to travel to Amaranthine. He's spent quite a bit of time recruiting in Highever, but... we're running out of excuses to see each other, I'm afraid."

"Why do you need an excuse?" Jessimyn asked.

Jenya gave a dark laugh. "Because... what will other people think?" She scowled at herself. "Honestly?" She lowered her voice to a whisper, even though there was no one else nearby. "If he were to propose tomorrow, I would accept in an instant, no matter what anyone might think. But he never will."

"Of course he won't," Jessimyn agreed, and Jenya gave her a hurt look. "Jenya, you're an arlessa. By birth, Jandin is common. For him to propose, he would be presuming to make himself an arl." She smiled at her. "I think that, if you're wanting to marry him, you're going to have to be the one to propose."

Jenya gave her a shocked look. "But... that's not how it's done. I couldn't..."

"Why not?" Jessimyn asked. "If you love him, if you want to marry him... There are plenty of Grey Wardens who are married. Not... to an arlessa, granted, but there's nothing that says he has to stay in Amaranthine. He could just as easily live in Highever. Yes, he might get called away on occasion, as needs arise, but for the most part, he could be there with you." Jenya wrinkled her eyebrows, as if thinking it over. "If there's nothing else standing in your way, there's no reason not to ask," Jessimyn added.

"Hmm..." Jenya mused. "And what of you? You and the king have been serious for quite some time now. When is _he _going to propose?"

Jessimyn looked away, trying to figure out how best to avoid the question, but there was really no way around it. "Unfortunately for us, there _are _other things standing in our way," she said vaguely. At Jenya's look, she elaborated. "Ned still doesn't know about... Fergus and Lyrina. Alistair plans on telling her once the Landsmeet is over, figuring she's old enough now to hear the truth, but... he's made plans to tell her before, so we'll see." She glanced at her sister-in-law. "Do Bryce and Lyla know?"

"Yes," said Jenya. "I told them everything shortly after the three of you visited, actually." She smiled. "Lyla was asking about how exactly we are all related, and I figured it was time."

"How did they take it?" Jessimyn asked.

Jenya sighed softly. "It was difficult. Bryce... he was very upset, but I think he's dealing with it better every day. Lyla was just sad. She and Nedda are close, and I think it hurt, to know that her father... killed her friend's mother." Jenya hurriedly added, "But they won't bring it up in front of Nedda. I told them I didn't think she knew about it yet. Though really, I think the two of them would just as soon _not _ever speak of it." She paused before asking. "How do you think Nedda will take it."

"I don't know," Jessimyn replied, staring off into space. "I'm scared, Jenya," she admitted. "I'm really scared. What if she... hates me because of it? What if she blames me? What if she can't forgive me?" She shook her head. "I love that little girl. She's the closest thing I'll ever have to a daughter, and the thought that I might lose her..." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "...lose both of them..." She sighed.

Jenya put an arm around her, and Jessimyn rested her head on her shoulder. She was grateful that Jenya didn't offer her any empty reassurances that everything would be all right. They didn't know if everything would be all right. Only time would tell.


	108. Alistair Chapter 108

Alistair was very proud of Ellynedra during the Landsmeet. He and Jessimyn had taken a lot of time, going over how she should act and what would be expected of her while she was there, and she behaved very well. He escorted her in on his arm and sat her in the queen's chair before sitting next to her. Jessimyn stood back and to the side, in her normal spot. Ellynedra offered a little wave to her grandfather as they entered, and she turned around in her chair to smile at Jessimyn, but then Alistair put his hand on hers, and she turned around, all serious. The Landsmeet was nothing that would have excited the princess. Each teyrn, arl, and bann, as well as the minor nobles, was given the chance to report on any issues going on in their region. Most reports concerned monetary, trade, or food supply concerns, though there were a few nobles from the south who were still reporting darkspawn activity, despite the fact that the frequent Grey Warden excursions found nothing.

As the meeting came to an end, Alistair rose, offering a hand to his daughter. Ellynedra clung to him a little tightly as everyone came up and paid their respects. She was a little more enthusiastic when Wulff came up, but she was strangely shy as Jenya and Bryce came forward, which seemed a little odd. But then, she was probably just overwhelmed by it all. As soon as the last of the nobles came through the line, Ellynedra rushed over to Jessimyn, speaking excitedly.

"Did you see?" She asked. "Did I do well?" Ellynedra grinned.

Jessimyn smiled, going to a knee in front of her. "You were wonderful," she said. "The perfect little princess." She then leaned forward, whispering something into Ellynedra's ear. The little girl giggled and hugged her.

Alistair raised an eyebrow, wondering what that was all about, when Wulff came up to stand at his side. He didn't look pleased. "You shouldn't allow them to spend so much time together," he said.

"You shouldn't try to tell me how to raise my own daughter," Alistair shot back, not looking over at the man.

Wulff made a sound, but Alistair ignored it. Ellynedra looked over and saw them and came over, pulling Jessimyn with her. The princess held onto Jessimyn's hand, although the older of the two looked uncomfortable at being pulled over while Wulff was there. "Did you see me?" Ellynedra asked her grandfather. "I sat very still, just like I was supposed to."

Wulff smiled at his granddaughter, pointedly ignoring the woman at her side. "You behaved admirably," he told Ellynedra. "I'm very proud of you."

Ellyneda smiled and released Jessimyn's hand to give Wulff a hug. "Are you going to come have dinner with us tonight?" She asked.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Ellynedra glanced at each of them in turn, waiting for someone to respond. "You know," Jessimyn finally said. "I have quite a lot of paperwork I need to go over tonight, but why don't the three of you have a nice dinner." Wulff accepted the decision immediately and took Ellynedra's hand, leading her out of the hall. Alistair gave Jessimyn a look, but she just smiled, putting a hand on his arm. "It's fine, really. I actually do have paperwork to do. Stuff I've been putting off for a few days now, so tonight's as good a time as any to catch up on it. Go have dinner, and just... send for me when you're alone."

Alistair kissed her hand before she left the hall, walking in the opposite direction from where Wulff and Ellynedra had gone. He sighed, hoping that someday soon she would no longer feel the need to leave, that someday soon she would realize she has just as much of a right to be there as anyone else. But that day had not yet come, so he turned and followed after his daughter.

The feast and ball that usually followed a Landsmeet was still a few days away, so Alistair grudgingly invited Wulff to his rooms for a private dinner for the three of them. It wasn't that he didn't like the man. In fact, they got along quite well, as long as the subject of Jessimyn didn't come up. Of course, the problem there was that she _did _tend to come up quite a bit. Luckily they managed to keep their arguments away from Ellynedra's ears, if they could even be called arguments. Usually it entailed Wulff making some snide comment, requiring Alistair to remind him of his place.

Ellynedra was in a lively mood, and she had a difficult time sitting still while they ate. Alistair was surprised by how interested she was in the Landsmeet process, and she peppered him and Wulff with questions about everything, from why the nobles came forward in the order they did, to what would happen if someone showed up late, to what Alistair would do if someone got into a fight. Some of her questions were rather amusing, and he had to laugh at some of the scenarios she came up with.

"So did you have to bring that chair in for me to sit in?" She asked.

"No," said Alistair. "The thrones at the front of the hall are for the king and queen. The one you sat in is normally empty."

Ellynedra frowned, thinking that over. "You should let Jess sit there if I'm not there." Alistair suppressed a sigh. If she'd made the comment in front of anyone other than Wulff, likely nothing would have been made of it. Wulff, however, was not one to let something like that go.

"Jessimyn Cousland is not the queen," he snapped at her.

Turning her attention to her grandfather, Ellynedra asked, "Why don't you like her?"

"_Should_ I like her?" He asked, and Alistair gave him a warning look. It was not the time to get into such a conversation.

"_I_ like her," said Ellynedra. "I think she's nice." She gave Alistair a smile. "I think you should marry her, so she can be my mother."

Wulff stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. "Jessimyn Cousland is the reason you don't _have _a mother," he said.

Time seemed to slow for a moment. Alistair watched his daughter's eyes widen, the confusion clear on her face. He saw the slightest moment of hesitation in Wulff's face, as if he regretted his words, but only for a moment. Alistair felt stunned that the teyrn had the audacity to say such a thing, but his shock quickly gave way to anger. He stood up slowly, glaring at Wulff. "You need to leave. Now."

"Why?" Wulff demanded, an almost wild look in his eyes. "Don't you think your daughter deserves to know the truth about why her mother was murdered?"

"Father?" Ellynedra asked in a soft, weak voice? "What's he talking about?"

Alistair made the mistake of taking his eyes off the teyrn to look at his daughter, made the mistake of pausing for just a second to try and think of a way to soften the blow her grandfather had just given her. In that instant, Wulff twisted the blade. "Jessimyn's brother killed your mother," Wulff said. "She..."

His words cut off as Alistair crossed the floor to grab him by the front of his shirt. "You will shut your mouth right now, or I will shut it for you," Alistair said through clenched teeth. This was not happening. This was not how this was _supposed _to happen. How had things spun out of control so quickly?

"Dadders?" Alistair turned to look at his daughter, and big, fat tears were falling down her cheeks. "Is he... did that really..." Ellynedra couldn't seem to form the words to voice the questions she had.

He released Wulff and turned to face his daughter. "Nedda, why don't you sit down, and we can talk." He glared at Wulff. "Get out."

Wulff either didn't notice, or he ignored the dangerous tone in Alistair's voice. "I think she deserves to know the truth about that traitorous..." But Wulff couldn't finish his sentence because he was too busy grabbing at his nose to stop the blood from gushing out onto his shirt. "You hit me," he said, stunned, and Alistair realized that, indeed, he had.

Ellynedra let out a sob and fled from the room. Alistair took a step to go after her, but then he stopped, deciding he would deal with Wulff first. "How dare you," he said in a low voice, advancing on the man. Wulff took a step back. "What makes you think you have the right to say _anything _like that to her?"

"I think that she deserves to know the truth," Wulff replied, though the strength had gone out of his voice.

Alistair waved a hand wildly at the door. "As do I, but that's not what she just heard. And Maker... you think _that _was the best way to tell her?" He demanded. "You think that was in her best interest, to just dump it on her like that? Andraste's tits, man, she's just a child! She deserved to be told gently, with compassion, not like that." With a thud, Wulff took the last backward step he could as he ended at the wall. Alistair's hands quivered with rage. He wanted to hit the man again. "You are going to go now," he said, his voice cold. "You are going to go back to your rooms, and you are going to stay there until I send for you."

"You would put me under guard?" Wulff demanded.

Alistair held out his hands. "Oh no. By all means, you can leave if you wish. Go back to Gwaren. But it will seriously hurt your chances of ever seeing your granddaughter again. More than you've _already_ hurt them."

Wulff's face reddened at that. "_I _am Ellynedra's family, not that... woman. Can't you see she's manipulating you, the same as her brother did? My Lyrina died because she and her brother wanted _her_ to be queen instead."

The harsh laughter that burst from Alistair's lips startled Wulff. "You have no idea... you've never had any idea... You think Jessimyn wants to be queen? If she did, she would be. She would have been over fifteen years ago. The offer was made to her long before it was made to your daughter." He scowled and took a step back. "Get out of my sight. I don't even want to look at you."

"Alistair..." Wulff said.

"I am your king," he said. "You will address me as such."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Wulff replied without missing a beat, his voice formal, nearly devoid of emotion other than its slight tremble. "Might I have some water for my face, so that I might clean up before I..."

"I said get out," Alistair said, his voice nearly a shout.

Wulff dropped into a bow, and then he went for the door. He didn't exactly scurry, but it was close. Alistair clenched his hands into fists as he watched him leave. Then he reached for the first fragile thing he could find, which happened to be an expensive crystal pitcher, and flung it at the wall. Watching it shatter did not improve his mood, strangely enough, and he turned on his heel to exit the room and go find his daughter. The faces of the guards outside showed their shock, likely at having seen a bloodied teyrn leave his rooms only a moment before, but they were wise enough to stand aside as he stormed past. Two of them moved to follow as he went down the hallway to Ellynedra's rooms. He gave her door a cursory tap and then went inside.

"Nedda?" He called. "Where are you?" The sitting room was empty, and he went to her bedchamber door, pressing his ear against it. "Nedda, open up." When there was no response, he opened the door only to find that room was empty as well. "Dera!" He called.

Ellynedra's nursemaid appeared from one of the side doors. "Your Majesty," she murmured, offering a curtsey.

"Where's my daughter?" He demanded.

Alistair couldn't say what his face showed, but it was obviously enough to cause the fear he saw in Dera's eyes. "I... don't know, Your Majesty. I haven't seen her since before she went to have dinner with you."

"She didn't come back here just a while ago?" He asked.

"N... No, Your Majesty," said Dera, shaking her head as if the emphatic head gesture would make him believe her more.

"Maker damn it," he muttered and stormed back outside the room. He gestured to one of his guards. "I need to find my daughter, and quickly. When she is found, she is to be brought to my rooms immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the guard before hurrying off to enlist others in the search.

"Maker damn it," he swore again, raking a hand through his hair. Where could she have gone?


	109. Jessimyn Chapter 109

It was getting darker, and Jessimyn reached to adjust the wick on her lamp. The papers she was going over were incredibly dull, and it took a lot just to keep her eyes focused on them. Setting them down for a moment, she stood and grabbed the arm of her couch, dragging it closer to the hearth. Once it was where she wanted it, Jessimyn sat back down, pulling a blanket over her legs for warmth. But the heat didn't help any, and her mind continued to wander. She couldn't help but think that she should have just joined the others for dinner. Why did she let Wulff intimidate her like he did? Maybe if she just sat down with him, just the two of them, they could work through some of the issues that seemed to fester between them. They would never be friends, she had no illusions of that, but perhaps they could at least learn to be civil, for Ellynedra's sake, if nothing else. Of course, that would only matter as long as Alistair's talk with her went well.

Jessimyn set her papers aside, finally admitting her defeat. They would just have to wait for another day. She rested her head on the arm of the couch as she glanced at the window. Surely the dinner had to be ending soon, and she would get word that Wulff had gone back to his own rooms. But then, maybe she should go to Alistair's rooms anyway, whether Wulff was still there or not. Jessimyn stood up, glancing around for her boots, but then she scowled and sat back down. She didn't want to risk making a scene in front of Ellynedra.

Jessimyn was lying there, watching the fire, when there was a pounding at the door. She crossed the room and opened it. Ellynedra pushed past her into the room, and Jessimyn glanced into the hall before closing the door. Alistair was not with her, nor was there a guard trailing behind her, which was strange. When she turned to face the little girl, she saw that her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Ned, what's wrong?" She asked, concerned that something had happened. "Is..."

"Don't call me that!" She said in a loud, shaky voice. "You're the only person who calls me that. Ned is a stupid, boy's name."

Jessimyn had been walking towards her, but she stopped at Ellynedra's words. "All right," she said carefully. "But tell me what's wrong. Did something happen? Is your father..."

"Is it true?" Ellynedra demanded, a fresh wave of tears starting to fall.

Jessimyn touched her arm, to guide the little girl to sit down on the couch, but Ellynedra jerked her arm away. Jessimyn took a step back, a cold feeling in her stomach. "Is what true?" She asked.

"Your... your brother..." Ellynedra managed between hiccuppy sobs. "Is he... did he really..."

The cold feeling seemed to creep up her body, into her shoulders and arms, and down into her feet. Her mind reeled, trying to figure out what had happened. Had Alistair decided to tell her everything that night? With Wulff there? And why had they let her run off when she was clearly still upset, obviously still had questions? "Ned... Nedda, sit down," said Jessimyn as she moved to the couch. "Try to..." She was going to say _calm down_, but she wasn't sure how the princess would react to that. "Take a few deep breaths, then tell me what happened."

Ellynedra did sit down, but she sat on the opposite side of the couch. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Grandfather said... he said... he said..." She angrily brushed the tears from her cheeks. "He said your brother killed my mother."

It was Jessimyn's turn to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. "Was this at dinner?" She asked, and Ellynedra nodded. "And what did your father say?" She asked, stalling for time.

"He hit him!" She said. "He hit him in the face!" Her lower lip trembled. "He was bleeding."

Well. That explained a few things. She wondered if Alistair and Wulff even knew Ellynedra had gone, if they were fighting when she had left. But Maker, how had the whole story concerning her brother and the queen just _happened _to come up in conversation? "I'm sorry," she said in a hollow voice. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Ellynedra glared at her, and Jessimyn realized the princess had never really looked at her in anger before. It brought back a memory, of when they first met, and Ellynedra had thought she had hurt Alistair in their spar. "So is it true?" Ellynedra asked again, her voice raising an octave, and as she sat there, trembling, Jessimyn realized the little girl was just as scared as she was angry.

"Yes," she said, because what else could she say? "Yes, it's true."

Ellynedra's face seemed to crumple, and she brought her hands up to cover it as she let out a sob. Jessimyn scooted over on the couch to touch her arm. "Don't," the princess said, but she didn't pull away. Jessimyn put her arms around her, and Ellynedra's body shook as she cried on Jessimyn's shoulder. She made soothing sounds as she held the little girl, but without warning, Ellynedra shoved Jessimyn back.

"Why?" She demanded.

Jessimyn let out a shaky sigh. She wasn't the one who was supposed to be having the conversation with Ellynedra. She wasn't the one who had been preparing what to say, how to tell her. "My brother Fergus... he was not a good person. He... he had us all fooled for a very long time. He pretended to be friends with your father, but friendship wasn't what he wanted. He wanted power. He thought... I think he thought that if..." She closed her eyes. "I think Fergus believed that, if your mother was gone, your father would marry me and make me the queen. I think Fergus believed that being the brother to the queen would give him that power that he wanted."

"So she _is _dead because of you," Ellynedra said, her voice filled with hurt. "Grandfather said it, and I didn't want to believe it, but it's true."

"Your grandfather..." Jessimyn faltered, having a difficult time keeping her voice steady. "Your grandfather loved your mother very much. When she died, he was heartbroken, just as your father would be if anything ever happened to you. Sometimes, when bad things happen, people need someone to blame. They need someone to be mad at. Your grandfather was mad at Fergus, of course, but Fergus was dead. He... there was a Landsmeet, not like the one you saw today, but a special one because they brought charges against him." Jessimyn looked away. "Fergus was... killed for his crimes, his treason. And once he was dead, your grandfather needed someone else to blame, so... he blamed me."

"Why would he blame you? Unless you did something wrong, too. Did you hurt my mother, too?" Ellynedra asked, the accusation clear in her voice.

And how was Jessimyn supposed to answer that? The truthful answer would be yes, that she _had _hurt Lyrina. Maybe not physically, not in the same way Fergus had, but Jessimyn had caused the queen a different sort of pain. She had stolen her husband away, distracted him so that he couldn't focus on his wife. Had those lingering emotions between the two of them not been so apparent, maybe Fergus wouldn't have done what he did. Had she not returned after traveling to Weisshaupt, had they not met again in Highever, how different would things be? But she could not adequately explain any of that to Ellynedra. "I was living in Amaranthine," Jessimyn said, skirting the question. "I'd been living there for two years before you were born. Two years before your mother died. I swear to you, I had no idea what my brother was going to do, or I would have stopped him."

Ellynedra looked away, arms crossed over her stomach, her face dark as tears continued to leak from her eyes. Finally she spoke. "My father told me that sometimes people will pretend to like you. That they'll act like they're your friend because you're the king, or a princess, but they're liars. Is that what your brother did?"

"Yes," Jessimyn answered.

"And is that what you're doing, too?" Ellynedra asked, her voice trembling a little.

"No. I promise you, I have never..."

"But maybe you're a liar, too," Ellynedra said, cutting her off. She covered her face with her hands, which did little to muffle her sobs.

Jessimyn moved to kneel in front of her. She gently took Ellynedra's hands away from her face, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Do you really think that?" She asked, feeling her own eyes beginning to sting. "Do you think I've been pretending and lying to you for the six years we've known each other? Do you think I've been lying to your father?"

"I don't know," said Ellynedra, turning her face away.

Jessimyn stood up and looked at the ceiling, pressing her eyes shut to keep from losing it in front of the little girl. "I haven't lied," she said. "I care a great deal about you and your father both." She took a deep breath, deciding to admit to something she hadn't yet been able to say. "I love you both. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he's a king, and you're a princess." She glanced at Ellynedra, but she was still looking away, wiping at the tears that continued to fall. "I think... I think you need to go find your father. You need to talk to him about these things, just the two of you. Maybe if you..."

There was a knock at the door, and then it swung open. "Jess, have you seen... Nedda." Alistair entered but stopped just inside the door, taking the two of them in. He gave Jessimyn a searching look, but she turned her head away, not wanting him to see the dampness on her face. "Nedda..." His voice was soft, as if he was trying to control it. "You shouldn't have run off like that. I've been very worried."

Ellynedra stood and walked over to her father, taking his hand. "I want to leave now," she said. "I don't want to be here anymore."

As she pulled him out the door, Alistair gave Jessimyn a look, one she understood to mean that he would be back later. But that did little to console her as she watched them leave, watched the door shut as they walked away, to leave her alone. Jessimyn sank back down onto the couch, covering her face with her hands, in a similar pose as Ellynedra had been in just moments before. Once she had cried as much as she was able, she stood. Jessimyn didn't know how long it might be before Alistair returned, if he even really would, but she figured she had plenty of time to get drunk before he did. If he did.

The bottle of wine was long since empty, and Jessimyn was curled up on her side on the couch when the door opened again and Alistair entered her room. She didn't look up as he walked over to her to kneel in front of her. "Jess..." He began, putting his hand on her face, but then he frowned. "You've been drinking."

Jessimyn gave him a slow blink. "Hmmnn...yes."

He glanced at the empty bottle sitting on the nearby table. "What did you tell her?" He asked. When Jessimyn just looked at him, Alistair added. "She wouldn't talk to me. I tried to ask her, but she just cried until she finally fell asleep." He sighed. "I'm sorry about all of this. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Wulff just..." His face darkened, his anger clear.

Jessimyn sat up slowly, and Alistair moved to sit at her side. "Ned told me you hit him."

Alistair sighed. "I did. I shouldn't have, but... he shouldn't have said the things he did, and I couldn't think of any other way to... shut him up." He scowled. "But Nedda shouldn't have had to see that. She shouldn't have had to experience _any _of that." He put a hand on Jessimyn's shoulder. "So what happened, when she got here?"

"She asked me if it was true," Jessimyn said. "She asked why Fergus..." She pressed a hand to her forehead, where she could feel the beginnings of a headache. "I couldn't _not_ answer. I couldn't just... tell her to go find you. So I told her. I said that it was true, that Fergus was... not a good person, but that he had fooled everyone into thinking he was." Jessimyn closed her eyes. "She told me she thinks I'm a liar, too. That she thinks I'm fooling everyone the way Fergus did."

Alistair put a finger under her chin, and she opened her eyes to look at him. "You know _I _don't believe that." He smiled at her. "Remember that little play you put on with Leliana for Nedda's birthday a few years ago? I've seen your acting skills. You're not good enough to pull something like that off."

Jessimyn let out a harsh laugh, but that seemed to trigger something, and the next thing she knew, she was crying, and Alistair was holding her. Normally she would have been embarrassed, for him to see her being so emotional, but she couldn't find it in her to care just then.

"Hey," he said softly, holding her close. "Don't cry, Jess. Nedda... doesn't understand. She's in shock, I think. I haven't even had a chance to talk to her about any of this, but I will in the morning. She and I are going to have a very long talk when she wakes up."

Jessimyn pushed away from him, turning her head as she wiped her face. "I guess it just... hurts that she would doubt me, but what else should I expect?" Alistair made a sound, but she shook her head. "Either she believes me, or she believes what her grandfather told her. He and I are telling her two different things. She shouldn't have to make that choice, to decide which of us to believe." She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, and she turned to look at him again. "I think that, while you are talking with Ned, I need to go talk to Wulff."

Alistair made a strangled sound. "I don't know if that's a good idea..."

"I think it's necessary," she said. "He's been blaming me for Lyrina's death for ten years now, and I've never done anything about it. We're probably long overdue for a talk. But as for tonight, I think I'm done talking. I can't... I just need to sleep."

Alistair nodded and stood up, offering her a hand. Jessimyn stumbled a little, and he put an arm around her waist. "Did you even eat tonight?" He asked, and she shook her head. He glanced at the empty bottle again. "You'll be lucky if you don't get sick."

"I don't really think I can feel worse," she whispered. Jessimyn looked up at him. "I can't... I'm not going with you to your room tonight. I don't think I should. I don't want to risk running into Ned before you have a chance to talk with her."

"Then I'll stay here," he said.

"Alistair..."

He shook his head. "Nedda's asleep, Jess. There's nothing more I can do for her tonight. But there's still something I can do for you." At her look, he gave her a small smile. "I didn't mean _that._ I just... don't want you to be alone right now. And _I _don't want to be alone." Jessimyn started to protest again, but Alistair put a finger over her lips. "Eldryn knows where I am, so if anything should happen, he'll know where to find me." He wrinkled his brow, as if something had just occurred to him. "Unless... unless you _want_ to be alone. That's fine, of course."

"No, maybe you're right. I think... I would rather you were here with me," Jessimyn said, leaning her head against his chest. After all, if things didn't go as she hoped, it might end up being one of the last nights they were able to spend together.


	110. Alistair Chapter 110

The sun had not quite risen when Alistair awoke and climbed from Jessimyn's bed. As he dressed, he watched her sleeping form, the light from the fireplace causing the shadows to dance across her face. The thought that he wouldn't always get to wake up with her at his side made him ill, and he wanted nothing more than to stay, to climb back into the bed to warm his body with hers. But at the same time, Alistair wanted to be there when Ellynedra woke up, so he kissed Jessimyn lightly on the forehead before he crept from her rooms. The halls were mostly deserted at that hour in the morning, and he saw very few people as he made his way to his daughter's rooms.

Ellynedra was still asleep when he went into her bedchamber, so he sat on a chair near her bed and waited. After a moment, the door opened and Dera poked her head inside. "Oh, excuse me, Your Majesty," she said, offering a curtsey. "I heard a noise and thought the princess had awakened."

Alistair nodded at her. "It's fine, Dera. But please see that breakfast is brought here for the both of us in... an hour or so."

The woman nodded, curtseying again. "Of course, Your Majesty." She closed the door softly behind her as she left.

Their voices must have awakened Ellynedra, and she muttered something and rolled over to open her eyes. Her face was still a little red and puffy from crying herself to sleep the night before. "Good morning," he said softly as he went over to sit on the side of the bed. She shifted to put her head on his knee, and Alistair petted her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Still sad," she said in a quiet voice.

Alistair didn't say anything for a while. He had thought about how the conversation would go for so long, but Wulff had thrown everything off. He took a breath, deciding to just start as he had originally planned. "Nedda... you know your mother loved you very much, don't you?"

She looked up at him. "I thought she died when I was born."

He nodded. "It was a couple weeks after you were born, but she got to see you, be with you. I don't think I'd ever seen her happier than when she held you in her arms. You know, the whole time we were married, we hoped and wished for you to come along. In fact, that was easily the happiest day of both of our lives, the day that you were born. You were so beautiful. I never realized how tiny a person could be." He smiled a little to himself, allowing his mind to go back to that day, when he'd been so scared to hold her for the first time. "Neither of us wanted to be away from you, even for a minute. We couldn't believe how lucky we were, to have such a beautiful baby girl. But then..." He shook his head. "Your mother got sick. Or at least that's what we thought. She was ill, and she didn't seem to be getting better, no matter what we did. There was a mage in Amaranthine, a Grey Warden who was living there, and I sent for him immediately. But when he got here, he realized there was nothing he could do because your mother was not sick. She'd been poisoned."

"By Jess' brother," Ellynedra said, her face darkening.

"Yes," Alistair admitted, though he had not originally planned to bring Jessimyn into the story until a little bit later. "But she was still in Amaranthine at that point, so let's just focus on the people who _were_ in Denerim. I'm sure you don't know, but... your mother was not the only person Fergus killed that summer."

Ellynedra looked up at him, eyes wide. "She wasn't?"

Alistair shook his head. "He poisoned a lot of people so that it would look like a sickness was spreading through the city. He thought that he could hide what he did, that no one would ever find out and he would get away with it all, but he hadn't planned on me sending for a mage. That mage, along with Leliana and another man, found out the truth about Fergus, about what he did, and they came to me. When I realized what had happened, I had him thrown in the dungeon."

"Jess said he got killed at a Landsmeet because he did treason. What does that mean?" Ellynedra asked.

"When someone does something that betrays either their nation or their king or queen, that's committing treason. Murder is a crime by itself, but because Fergus killed the queen with the hopes of putting someone else of his choosing in her place, that made what he did treasonous." Alistair looked at his daughter. "Does that make sense?"

Ellynedra nodded, her lower lip poking out as her eyes filled with tears again. "So that means Jess did treason, too."

"No, Nedda," Alistair said as he pulled her upright to sit on his lap. He cradled her head to his chest. "Fergus sought to use his sister just like he tried to use me. He knew that Jess and I... cared for each other, that we had been friends for many years before you were born, and I think he believed that, if your mother was dead, he could convince the two of us to marry. But Nedda, if Jessimyn had committed treason along with her brother, she would have been punished just as he was. She would have been accused in the Landsmeet right alongside him."

"But grandfather said it was her fault mother died," Ellynedra whispered.

"Nedda, look at me," he said, and she leaned back to look up at him. "Do you trust me?" She nodded. "Do you think I would lie to you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Do you think I would let anything bad happen to you?" He asked.

"No," she said again.

Alistair nodded. "If I believed that Jess had _anything _to do with your mother's death, if I thought there was any reason to believe she wasn't being honest with either of us, she wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be as big a part of our lives as she has been. I wouldn't have asked her to be my _adviser _if I didn't think I could trust her."

Ellynedra's eyes filled with tears. "But that means... if she's not lying, then grandfather is." She sniffed. "Is he... did you hurt him?" She asked.

With a sigh, Alistair hugged her to him again. "I'm sorry I lost my temper like that, especially in front of you. I was very angry at your grandfather for what he said, but that doesn't mean hitting him was right. But Nedda... I want you to know that you don't have to choose between people here. You don't have to choose between Jess and your grandfather, or between _me _and your grandfather. You just have to... figure out what _you _believe is true."

"What if I don't know?" She asked quietly.

"Then... you don't know. Nedda, you don't have to decide right now what you think." He kissed her on the top of the head. "This was all dropped on you very suddenly, and not at all in the way I would have wanted."

"What do you want me to think?" Nedda asked.

He would have loved to answer that question, but he couldn't. "Nedda, you're going to be queen one day. You have to learn to decide for yourself what's right, what's true. You know what _I _think, but I can't tell you what _you _should think."

She looked up at him, her lower lip starting to tremble. "But I don't know." The tears began to fall. "I thought Jess might be my mother some day, but it's because of her brother that I don't _have _a mother." Ellynedra wiped at her face, the tears finally slowing. "What was she like?" She asked. "My mother, I mean. You never really talk about her. I always pretended she was like Jess, but..." She shrugged, looking almost embarrassed at her question.

"You look like her, you know," he said.

"I do?"

Alistair nodded. "She was beautiful. Dark hair and eyes, like you have. Your face is shaped a lot like hers was, although I'm afraid you've got my nose."

Ellynedra smiled and touched her nose. "I do?"

He nodded again. "Lyrina was... very gentle. And sensitive. She was kind, and well loved by the Ferelden people. But she wasn't weak. If she felt anyone had been wronged, she wasn't afraid to stand up for them, or for herself." Alistair pushed his daughter's hair away from her face. "She was the one who picked out your name. Did you know that?"

With a shake of her head, she said. "No, I didn't."

Alistair nodded. "That was the deal. If you had been a boy, I would have gotten to pick the name."

Ellynedra leaned against him. "Do you miss her?" She asked.

He was quiet for a moment. "When someone in your family, someone you care about, dies, you'll always miss them. But as time passes, it gets easier to deal with. I think what's always been hardest is knowing that she never really got to know you, and you never got to know her." He hugged her tightly. "I know what it's like, to grow up without a mother, and I never would have wished that for you. I've tried to love you enough for two parents, but I know it's not the same." She shook in his arms, and he realized she was quietly sobbing. "Nedda... sweetheart..." He said soothingly, rubbing her back with a hand.

"You love Jess, too. Don't you?" She asked in a tiny voice.

Alistair took a deep breath. "Yes, I do."

"Do you love her more than me?" Ellynedra asked, her voice so soft he could barely hear her.

Alistair took a hold of her by the shoulders, gently moving her back so that he could look at her, so that she could see his face. "Nedda, you're my daughter. I will _never _love anyone more than I love you. Ever. And I will always love you, no matter what."

"But..." The corners of her mouth pulled down. "Will you be mad at me, if I don't... if I can't... What if I don't think Jess is a good person anymore?"

"I won't be mad at you," he said simply.

"Will you... will you be _sad _at me?" She asked, her chin starting to quiver.

Alistair couldn't help but smile a little at the phrasing. "Nedda... I told you, I want you to be able to decide for yourself what to believe. I'm not going to force you to be around someone you can't trust. But if you decide you can't trust Jess, then... she will probably leave. And yes, that will make me sad, but it won't be your fault."

"I don't want you to be sad, Dadders," she said as she started to cry again.

"And I don't want you to be sad, either," he said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. They were both quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Nedda, your grandfather thinks that Jess is only around because she wants to be queen. That's what _he _believes. I think Jess is around because she cares about us both. That's what _I _believe. You have to figure out what _you _believe is the reason she's here. Maybe that's the first question you need to ask yourself. Do you think she really cares about you, or do you think she's pretending?"

Ellynedra looked down at her hands. "She told me she loved me," she said.

Alistair was surprised by the sudden flash of jealousy he felt, that his daughter had gotten such a declaration from Jessimyn when he hadn't yet, but he pushed those feelings away as best he could. "Then you have to decide whether you believe her or not." She looked up at him again, a sad look on her face, and Alistair gave her the best smile he could manage. "You don't have to decide right now. It's just something to think about."

Ellynedra climbed into his lap again, and he held her for a while. Alistair would have loved to just tell her what he thought of Wulff, but he knew he couldn't. Her grandfather's actions had already caused her enough distress, and Alistair wouldn't stoop to his level. It just made him so mad, knowing that his daughter's tears likely could have been avoided, had he been able to tell her about her mother in the way he had planned. But most of all, he was scared that Wulff's words had poisoned her against Jessimyn. Alistair hadn't even really considered that as a possibility before, as he'd been so sure he'd be able to get her to see things his way. The thought of Jessimyn leaving again made him sick, but if Ellynedra couldn't deal with it, what other choice did they have?

"Did you chop his head off?" Ellynedra asked suddenly, and Alistair looked down at her.

"What?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"The bad man," she said. "At the Landsmeet when he got killed. Did you chop his head off?"

"I... no. I thought Jess told you..." He shook his head, wondering if he should give her the specifics that Jessimyn hadn't, for whatever reason. "Fergus was a teyrn, like your grandfather is. As was his right, he asked for the charges against him to be settled in a duel."

"So you fought him?" Ellynedra asked.

"No," Alistair said, shaking his head again. "A king or queen cannot take part in a duel, no matter what the reasons there might be for having it. Because I could not fight him myself, I had to have a champion."

Ellynedra wrinkled her eyebrows. "What's that?"

"A champion?" He asked. "It's a person who fights for someone else, in their place."

"So then who was your champion person?" Ellynedra asked.

Alistair hesitated in answering. Maybe Jessimyn had a reason for not telling the princess about that part, but if she did, he didn't know what it was, and he couldn't ask her. "It was Jess," he said finally. "Jess was my champion."

"So..." Ellynedra frowned. "That means she was the one who fought her own brother." Alistair nodded. "Does that mean... did _she _chop his head off?"

Alistair grimaced. "I'm not sure where you're getting the head chopping idea, Nedda. But Jess is the one who... killed Fergus, yes."

The idea seemed to distress her. "Jess... killed her own brother?" She asked, and he nodded at her. "But if she was doing treason with him..."

"You're right," he said, latching onto her words. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, that she would fight her own brother if she was helping him, if she was as guilty as he was. It doesn't make sense that she would offer to fight for me if she was trying to hurt me."

Ellynedra nodded, biting on her bottom lip as if deep in thought, but she didn't ask any further questions. That was probably for the best. Alistair really did want her to come to her own decision, and he didn't want her to think he was pushing her to make the decision he wanted her to make. They sat in silence until sounds came from the sitting room.

"That must be breakfast," he said when he noticed her curious looks.

"But... I'm still in my nightgown," Ellynedra said.

Alistair smiled at her. "That's all right. It's just going to be you and me. If you want, we can have a picnic breakfast. We haven't had one of those in a long time."

Ellynedra gave him a smile, the first real smile he'd seen from her. "Okay," she said. Alistair offered his back to her, and she climbed on, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hoisted her up as he stood, and her arms tightened around him. "I love you, Dadders," she said.

Alistair reached up to put his hand on top of hers. "I love you more."


	111. Jessimyn Chapter 111

Jessimyn winced, pulling her blankets up to cover her head as her room was flooded with light. She had no idea what time it was, but her stomach complained loudly that it was well past time that she ate. The dull ache in her head helped to communicate the fact that she was also a little dehydrated. Instinctively she reached a hand across the bed for Alistair, but of course he was not there.

"Alistair, that's not funny," she mumbled. "Close the drapes. It's too bright, and my head already hurts."

"It's not Alistair," came the reply in Leliana's voice, and then her blankets were yanked away. "Time to get up... oh my." Jessimyn gasped, pulling the blankets back up to cover herself. "I'm sorry," said Leliana with a giggle. "I didn't realize you were unclothed under there."

Jessimyn grumbled, poking her head out to glare at her. "Well... I am. And I was trying to sleep, so I'd appreciate it if you'd let me get back to it."

"You're aware that it's past noon, yes?" Leliana said with a smile. "Besides, what are you doing in this room anyway? I thought you only used it to store the clothes you only wear when someone is forcing you to dress up. I'd ask if you and Alistair had a fight, but as you assumed it was him trying to awaken you, I doubt that's it."

"You're not going to let me sleep, are you?" Jessimyn asked, and Leliana shook her head. "Fine. Just... give me a moment to dress, and I'll give you whatever gossip you're looking for. Oh, and would you ask a servant to bring me something to eat?"

Leliana smiled. "Already taken care of. I'll be in the sitting room."

Once the bard had gone, Jessimyn dragged herself out of bed and pulled her blankets around herself for warmth as she went to her wardrobe. It was then that she realized the problem with sleeping in her own room. She had very little that was suitable to wear, at least by her standards. The wardrobe contained only dresses, and she flipped through them until she found the simplest, most modest one she could find and pulled it on. The thought that she might need to fetch some of her clothes from Alistair's rooms was upsetting. She didn't like the idea of being relegated back to her own rooms, or the thought of being alone in the evenings, and worse, at night. But all she could do was hope for the best, hope that Alistair would be able to get through to Ellynedra.

Once she was dressed, she went out to the sitting room, where Leliana was sitting on the couch that was still very close to the fire. There was a tray covered with a variety of breads, cheeses, and fruit that was sitting on a table, and Jessimyn went over to it and picked it up, carrying it with her to set on her lap as she sat down next to her friend.

"There are plates, you know," Leliana said with a smile, pointing to the table.

"Sure, but I'm probably going to eat all of this, so why bother?" Jessimyn replied with a shrug before putting a chunk of melon in her mouth.

"You promised me gossip," said Leliana. "But since you're eating, I'll give you mine first. You see, there are rumors flying around like mad about what happened last night in the king's rooms. It seems the princess came running out of there crying, and shortly afterward, Teyrn Wulff left with blood on his face and shirt. Then, apparently, the king sent his guards out to search for the princess. And now I find you here, sleeping in a room I don't think you've slept in in years. Would you like to hear what people are saying?"

Jessimyn sighed as best she could with a mouth full of food and waved a hand for Leliana to continue.

"Most are quite dull," said Leliana. "About how Alistair and Wulff have quarreled, either over Nedda being allowed to attend the Landsmeet or about you. My favorites are the ones where they say the two of them got into a fight because either Alistair told Wulff that the two of you are getting married, or that you're pregnant. Of course, those can't be true because, if they were, you would have already told me such things, yes?"

"Maker," said Jessimyn, shaking her head. "No, Leliana, I am neither betrothed nor with child. But there _was _a fight. It seems Wulff took it upon himself to inform Ned that it was my brother who killed her mother. He also let her know that he thinks I am just as responsible for Lyrina's death as Fergus was. Ned... did not take it well. The three of them were having dinner, and I was here, waiting for Wulff to go back to his rooms, and Ned came to find me, to ask if it was true. She was really upset, told me she's not sure she can believe me when I tell her that I'm not trying to deceive Alistair as Fergus did."

"Oh, Jess... I'm sorry," Leliana said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "And... Alistair?"

"He tried to talk to her last night, but I guess Ned just cried herself to sleep," said Jessimyn. "He was going to try again this morning. I suppose if it's as late as you say, they may have already finished their talk." She looked away, a cold fear creeping into her body. "Which means... it probably didn't go well, or he would have come to tell me himself." Jessimyn shook her head. She didn't want to think like that, but it was difficult not to. "And I told him I was going to go talk to Wulff today."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Leliana asked.

Jessimyn almost smiled. "Alistair wasn't sure it was, either. I don't know if it's a _good _idea, but I think it's necessary. In fact, I should probably do that as soon as I can, if he's even anywhere I can find him."

"From what I've heard," Leliana offered. "Wulff hasn't been seen at all today. Perhaps he's still in his rooms, yes?" She smiled at Jessimyn. "Maybe I'll see if I can have a little talk with Nedda as well. I'll tell her that I've always thought you would make a terrible bard because you're awful at lying."

"Umm... thank you?" Jessimyn said with a smile. She shook her head, wincing lightly at the movement.

Leliana went into her bedchamber, returning shortly with a brush. She stood behind Jessimyn, brushing out her hair and massaging her scalp for her. When she was done, she set the brush aside, then pulled Jessimyn's hair into a braid. She felt Leliana's arms wrap around her, and the bard's cheek pressed up against hers. "I am sorry for how things have gone, but do not fret overmuch. Nedda is a smart girl, and she'll realize that your love for her and her father is sincere. She's had a nasty shock, but she'll come around."

"I hope so," Jessimyn said, patting Leliana on the hand before she stood up. "But for now, I'm going to go see about her grandfather." When Leliana didn't stand as well, she gave her a look. "Are you... planning on staying here?"

Leliana smiled. "If that's all right. I want to be the first to hear what happens, when you get back. Well... that and I may have flirted a little too much with a young nobleman last night, and I think he got the wrong impression. I saw him hanging around my rooms earlier, and I want to make sure he's gone before I go back."

Jessimyn let out a soft laugh. "I must admit, I'm sometimes jealous of how you've managed to remain young and vibrant and desirable, to men _and _women it seems, while the rest of us grow old and wrinkled."

"Nonsense," Leliana said with a giggle. "When I got that lovely view in your bedchamber earlier, your body looked just as youthful as it ever did, back when we used to bathe together in lakes and streams while on the run from darkspawn and Loghain's men."

Jessimyn snorted. "Right. And on _that _note, I'm going now. I'll see you in a little while."

She was smiling a little as she left her room, but Jessimyn's smile vanished quickly enough as she made her way through the halls to Wulff's rooms. She seemed to notice a lot of stray looks directed her way, but she wondered if she was just imagining things, especially since her mind was occupied by the rumors Leliana had said were going around. Still, it was almost a relief when she finally made it to Wulff's door. Almost. Of course, at that point she had other things to worry her, and she stood there for a long while before she finally worked up the courage to knock.

When the door opened, Wulff's manservant stood there, and he gave her a surprised look. "May I help you?" He asked, and Jessimyn couldn't help but notice that he offered her no title.

"I wish to speak with the teyrn," she said simply, and the manservant disappeared inside.

He kept her waiting for a very long time, and when the door finally opened, it was Wulff standing there, a frown on his face. "What do you want, Jessimyn?" He asked.

She gave him her best smile. "To speak with you where we will not be overheard by anyone who passes by, for starters. The rumors are already running rampant, so it would seem, and I, for one, do not wish to stoke them further. So may I come in?"

He just stood there for a long while, just looking at her, before he finally stood aside, giving her an exaggerated gesture to welcome her into his rooms. Jessimyn swept inside and took a seat. Wulff sat near her, though not too close. She tried not to let it bother her that Wulff had a drink, but his manservant did not offer her anything. Well, she wasn't there for a social call, so if Wulff chose not to follow social graces, so be it.

"So, to what do I owe the... _honor_ of your visit?" He asked, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"I want to talk to you about what you did to Ned last night," she said simply.

"What I... _did _to her?" Wulff scowled at her. "My granddaughter deserves to know the truth of who you really are. Perhaps her father has been taken in by your wiles, but I am not, and Ellynedra doesn't deserve to be, either."

Jessimyn let out a long sigh. She knew she had to keep her temper or the whole meeting between the two of them would be pointless. "Look, you don't like me. I get that. But this isn't about us. This is about Ned. She..."

Wulff snorted. "You think you have any idea what's right for her? You think you're what she needs in her life? You're not. Your family ruined her life. The fact that the king keeps you around makes no sense to me, but that's his decision. I can't tell him what to do with his life. But Ellynedra is my granddaughter, and I don't want her influenced by someone like you. Maybe I can't keep you away from her, but I want to make sure she knows what type of person you are."

Jessimyn clenched her fists together. She didn't like the way Wulff had managed to take control of the conversation. "You have no _idea _what type of person I am," she said. "You've never tried to find out. You want to condemn me along with my brother, yet you show no such similar inclination towards Jenya or the children."

He frowned at her. "Are you trying to imply that they should also be held accountable for my daughter's death?" He demanded.

"No, of course not. No more than I should be," she replied. "I understand that you still grieve the loss of your daughter, but by shifting the blame from Fergus to me, you've just kept yourself from really being able to heal."

Wulff's face darkened with rage. "Don't you dare try to tell me how I should feel. You have no idea the pain I've dealt with, losing three of my four children."

"You think I don't know what that feels like?" Jessimyn demanded, her voice rising as she spoke to end at nearly a shout. "You think I haven't felt the pain that you feel, from losing someone you love? I have. When Rendon Howe betrayed my family, I had to step over the bodies of my sister-in-law and my nephew to fight alongside my mother, in our attempt to find my father. But when we found him, we were too late. He was badly wounded, and..." She blinked back the tears at the memory, pushing herself on. "He was hurt too much to be able to escape, as Howe's men closed in on us, and my mother refused to leave his side. I was only nineteen years old, barely more than a child, and in that one night, I lost my family." She leaned in, looking at Wulff. "You think I don't know the rage you feel, that someone you loved was so unfairly taken from you? I was angry for so long, and I wanted Howe to suffer. But like you, I think, I also know that the death of the person responsible won't heal you, won't bring back what you lost. _Unlike_ you, however, I left the blame where it belonged. On Howe's head. I didn't try to push it on his wife or his children."

"I think the difference here is that you stand to benefit directly from your brother's actions," said Wulff in a cold voice.

Jessimyn took a deep breath, hesitating over what she would say next. In that instant, she decided to tell him everything. Or almost everything, at least. "That girl of nineteen, the one who was still mourning her parents? That's who I was when I fell in love with Alistair. We didn't know what the future would hold for us then, didn't know that he would be king. All we wanted at the time was to defeat the Archdemon and end the Blight. But then things... changed, and he _was _the king. He proposed to me. Did you know that? He offered to make me queen. If that was all I really cared about, as you seem to think, then I wouldn't have turned him down. But I did. And then I left, so that he could find a suitable queen, which he found in your daughter."

He gave her a disgusted look. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you apparently told Ned that I'm the reason she doesn't have a mother. But if I was... if I've been..." Jessimyn took a deep breath. "My not wanting to be queen wasn't the only reason I turned Alistair down, when he proposed. I am... unable to have children, and I knew I wouldn't be able to provide an heir."

Wulff sneered at her. "So you and your brother just waited until Lyrina provided one, and then you killed her, in the hopes that Alistair would allow you to take her place."

With a sigh, Jessimyn shook her head. "Do you have any idea what Alistair's life was like, before he became a Grey Warden? He grew up without a mother _or _a father. He basically grew up without a family, and that's all he's ever wanted for himself. I left him, not just because he needed an heir, but because he needed a _family_, and I couldn't give that to him, no matter how much I wanted to. I left because I thought that, if I went away, he had a chance at finding the happiness that he deserves. That's what love is, Wulff. It's wanting the best for the other person, even if that best means you lose out."

With a wave of his hand, Wulff said, "All this sentiment is nice, but I don't believe a word of it. Maybe you left, but you came back. I remember my Lyrina coming to me, upset because she thought there was something going on between you and the king behind her back. She was heartbroken because she never believed he really loved her, though she loved him."

"I did come back, yes," Jessimyn said. "But when I realized that... that Alistair and I could not just go back to being friends, I left again. I truly wanted his marriage to be as happy as something from a bard's tale."

Wulff actually rolled his eyes at that. "I don't know why you even bother. I don't believe you. I will never believe you."

"Why didn't you just kill me, then?" Jessimyn asked in a quiet voice.

"What?" Wulff choked out.

"At the Landsmeet, as my brother lay dead and bleeding on the floor," Jessimyn elaborated. "I offered you my sword. If you really felt I should stand accused along with him, if you truly believed I was as guilty as he, why didn't you cut me down as well? If I was guilty, I would have deserved my death as much..." She swallowed. "As much as he deserved his. But you didn't. Why not?"

"I... I..."

"If you really think I had a hand in your daughter's murder, why haven't you pushed Alistair to bring charges against me as well?" She asked.

"The man wouldn't listen to me, as he is obviously infatuated with you," Wulff said sullenly.

"Maybe... maybe now, but not then." Jessimyn looked down at her hands. "The day I... killed my own brother for his crimes, I left Denerim. I stayed away for four years. I had no plans to _ever _return, until Alistair and Ned showed up in Amaranthine, and he asked me to come back, to fill the role as his adviser. If this was all some elaborate plan, where are my actions to prove it? I've been... involved with him for at least four years now, and maybe longer depending on how you want to count it, but I've never pushed for marriage." Jessimyn looked at him. "Yet _you've_ used my position, before I even had it really, to keep Alistair from marrying the wrong person, someone who would try to take away Ned's birthright. You trusted me enough to ask for _that _from me."

"That's different," he sputtered. "That..."

"Is it?" She asked. "And really... if you're so worried about me being queen, why have you never shown such similar fear over me being Alistair's adviser? What influence would I have as queen that I don't already have? I already attend court and Landsmeets, he already comes to me when he needs advice on a decision he has to make. The only difference between being queen and what I am now is that I would have a different chair." She shook her head. "But I don't think that's your real worry at all. I think you just don't want me filling the role in Ned's life that should have been Lyrina's."

"Am I supposed to want that?" Wulff demanded. "Am I just supposed to be fine with the idea that your brother might get what he wanted after all? I just sit back and watch you take over my daughter's life, become the mother to my daughter's child? Tell me, do you think Alistair would do the same? If it was Ellynedra who had been killed, would he simply stand aside and let his grandchild be cared for the person responsible for her death?"

Jessimyn sighed, ducking her head. Why had she thought coming to speak to Wulff would be a good idea? "I am not responsible for Lyrina's death," Jessimyn said, her voice weary. "She and I may not have been close friends, but I never wished anything bad for her. I would never wish for a child to grow up without her mother, or for a man I care about to lose his wife."

"But you have no qualms over benefiting from that loss," Wulff countered.

"If I didn't, someone else would," she said quietly, knowing that her words would not sit well with him. "If I had never returned to Denerim, do you really think Alistair would still be unmarried today? Ned might have another woman filling that void left by Lyrina's death, but it might be someone who doesn't love her as much as I do. It might be a woman who saw her as a hindrance to her own children becoming future rulers of Ferelden, instead of... instead of how I see her. I may not be able to have children of my own, but I love Ned like she was my own daughter. And I think she loved me the same way, until you made her doubt me." She closed her eyes, taking a few breaths to calm herself. "You're her grandfather, and Ned loves you very much, as well she should. But you're hurting her by making her feel like she has to choose between us."

"You're just scared she'll believe me," Wulff shot back.

"Yes, I am," Jessimyn admitted, curing the tear that managed to fall down her cheek. She angrily brushed it away. "I'm terrified of that. But you know what? More than anything else, I want what's best for her, and for Alistair. If she decides she can't trust me, if she decides she doesn't want me around anymore, then I'll go. It will break my heart, but I'll do it. I never wanted to be queen, and I would be perfectly happy to live the rest of my life without that title. But if I lose the two of them..." The thought caused a burning in the back of her throat, and she had to swallow a few times to continue. "I think the only person who would win in that situation would be you, and it would be a hollow victory at best."

Wulff was quiet for a moment, giving her a searching look. "That's all very moving," he finally said. "Touching, really... but Fergus could be convincing, too."

Jessimyn felt a coldness spread through her as the despair she'd been feeling bubbled up to the surface. There would be no convincing the man, no matter what she said, and Jessimyn knew she couldn't put herself through it anymore. She stood up. "I am sorry to have wasted your time, Your Grace," she said, the anguish she felt seeping into her voice.

Wulff said nothing as she left his rooms, and she paused for only a moment to take a deep, calming breath outside his door before she began walking back to her own rooms. She kept her steps slow and steady, kept her head up, though she saw little as she walked through the halls, trying to keep the unshed tears from blurring her eyes. She barely made it into her rooms when she fell to the ground, leaning back against the door to pull her knees up. The tears finally began to fall as she covered her face with her hands. Jessimyn had forgotten Leliana was there waiting for her until she felt the bard's arms wrap around her. She leaned her head on Leliana's shoulder, and for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she allowed someone to hold her while she cried.


	112. Alistair Chapter 112

The morning Alistair spoke with Ellynedra, he didn't see Jessimyn at all for the rest of the day. He had hoped she might come by that night, but she didn't. Eldryn told him she had stopped by at one point to collect a few things, but it had been at a time when he and the princess had been having dinner, a time when she had to know he wouldn't have been there, so he took that to say she didn't want to see him. Of course, the first thing he had done was to see what she had taken. Only a few articles of clothing were missing from the section of the wardrobe that he let her use, only a few toiletries gone from her table, which either meant she had only taken what she could carry, or she wasn't planning on permanently moving back to her own rooms. He hoped for the latter. Sleep had been fitful that night, and he woke up the next morning in a sour mood.

Perhaps it was the mood that finally prompted him to speak with Wulff. As far as he knew, the man had obeyed him and had kept to his rooms the previous day, though Alistair hadn't heard whether Jessimyn had gone to visit him or not. He assumed not, as surely she would have come to him, to tell him what had happened… wouldn't she? But then, he hadn't gone to her to tell her of how his conversation with Ellynedra went. Alistair sighed as he dragged himself from his bed and got dressed. It had only been two days, and not even two _full _days, and already he was tired of it all. Alistair wanted all of the drama to end. He wanted the feast and the ball over with, he wanted Wulff gone, and he wanted things to get back to the way they had been. But was that even possible anymore?

Alistair waited until he finished his breakfast before he sent a page with the summons for Wulff to come to him. He didn't have to wait long before there was a knock at the door and Eldryn was showing the teyrn in to his room. Wulff gave him a low, formal bow. "Your Majesty," he said by way of greeting. There was the faintest amount of swelling on his face, but his nose didn't appear to be broken.. That was good. No matter how deserving he thought Wulff had been of the punch he had taken to his nose, Alistair regretted his violent outburst. Still, he contemplated making the man stand for the entire meeting. Of course, he decided against it. That would just be pettiness. He gestured to a chair, and Wulff sat. "To what do I owe the honor of this summons?" The teyrn asked. "May I take this to mean that I am no longer under lock and key?"

"You never were," Alistair said evenly. "I told you that you could leave at any time." Wulff quirked his lips at that but said nothing. "In fact, once all the festivities are over, I hope to speed you on your way back to Gwaren."

A look of anguish passed briefly over Wulff's face, but he smoothed it away quickly. "And my granddaughter?" He asked.

"Oh, she'll be staying here," Alistair said in response, knowing that was not the question Wulff had been asking.

His response seemed to fluster Wulff a little, and he shook his head. "Am I to be allowed to see her before I go?"

"You'll see her at the feast tomorrow night," Alistair said. "And I've decided to let her attend at least the first hour or two of the ball. However, I am making a change to the usual seating arrangement at the high table. She and I will be in our usual place, but I'm moving you from my left to my right."

"So I won't be sitting by her, then," Wulff said, and then he frowned. "Does that mean I'll be sitting by… _her_?"

Alistair did not need to ask who each of his _hers _referred to. "Yes," Alistair said. "I think it best to have myself between Nedda and both of you. So Sedric will sit next to Nedda, Jess will be next to me, and you will be next to Jess." He gave Wulff a cold smile. "I'm sure the two of you can find something to talk about."

And sure enough, Wulff provided him with the information he had been digging for. "I think she and I said all we needed to say yesterday. But then, I'm sure you know all about that. Your Majesty. Your… friend can be very persuasive, very convincing. It would seem such manipulation runs in the Cousland blood."

"Or perhaps she's telling the truth," Alistair offered.

"Oh yes," Wulff replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "There's always that."

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the man. "You think me so great a fool that I don't know the difference? You think me so uncaring that I would risk my daughter's feelings over something like this?"

Wulff stammered, trying to come up with a response. "I… she…" He shook his head. "Am I just supposed to forget what has happened?"

"No," Alistair said. "But you're supposed to move on. Lyrina is dead, but so is her killer. They've both been gone these last ten years now. How much longer are you going to let this pain fester?" Wulff gave him a look, one of such unguarded anguish, that Alistair held his hands up, almost in defense. "I can only imagine what that pain must feel like. I know that if I ever lost Nedda…" He shook his head, unable to finish the statement. "But you can't keep blaming Jess for something she didn't do."

Wulff gave a weary sigh. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I tire of this conversation. Neither you, nor my cousin Jenya, nor Jessimyn Cousland herself will convince me that she is the _good _person she has you all believing she is." That surprised Alistair. He hadn't known Jenya knew anything of what was going on, hadn't known she had ever spoken to Wulff about Jessimyn, although it made sense.

Alistair decided to take a different approach. "What will you do, then, should Nedda decide that she _does _trust Jess, that she doesn't care who her brother was?"

Wulff wrinkled his brow, as though the question had never occurred to him before. "I…" He sighed again. "What choice will I have, should that happen?" He finally asked.

"The same choice you have right now," Alistair replied. He clenched his hands into fists, and he saw Wulff flinch at the movement. He forced himself to relax. "Can't you see that you're hurting her?" He asked. "Can't you see that Nedda loves Jess, and your false accusations against her are causing Nedda pain, because she loves you, too, and she feels likes he has to choose between you." Wulff just looked away, so Alistair continued. "If that wasn't true, if Nedda _didn't _love Jess, she wouldn't be as confused as she is right now, she wouldn't be quite so upset. If she didn't love her, she wouldn't have gone to her like she did." Wulff turned his head, giving Alistair a quizzical look. "That night, when she went running out of here in tears? She went straight to Jess. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't love her as much as she loves you, because she would have just believed what you said. The fact that she hasn't been able to figure out just _what _she believes only shows how much you _both _mean to her."

Wulff brought a hand up to rub at his forehead. "Nothing you say will make me like the woman," he said.

"That's fine," Alistair replied. "You don't have to. But I won't have you telling my daughter things that I know to be untrue."

With a scowl, Wulff said, "Then why don't you just… tell her what to think and be done with it?"

Alistair shook his head. "Would that I could. But she will be queen one day, and it's decisions like these that she needs to learn to make on her own. Now matter how _I _may feel, I can't force her to make a particular decision when it's supposed to be based on how _she _feels. And neither can you."

Wulff gave him an appraising look, then he nodded. "I don't necessarily disagree with that," he said. "I just… I don't want her hurt any more than you do, and I felt she needed to know the tr… my point of view."

"But do you see that your method of telling her left much to be desired?" Alistair asked.

"I… suppose it could have been done in a more…" Wulff reached up to lightly touch his nose. "…delicate manner, yes."

Assuming that was probably the best he was going to get, Alistair nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll leave you to the rest of your day. You are dismissed."

Wulff stood up, then lowered into a bow. "Your Majesty," he said formally before Eldryn appeared to show him out. Alistair almost stopped him, told him he didn't need to use his title. After all, Wulff hadn't addressed him by title in fifteen years. But Alistair let it go. He realized that, perhaps, he was feeling at least a _little _petty.

The Landsmeet was always scheduled at the beginning of a week, with the ball at the end, but the days between were always busy, and that day was no exception. Alistair had meeting after meeting to attend, with various nobles for various reasons. Some of them were formal, some not, but none required his adviser to be present. Normally Jessimyn would have attended with him, if appropriate, but once again the day passed without him seeing her. Once the meetings were done, dinner was eaten, and Ellynedra was in bed, he went to her rooms.

His first knock was not answered, nor was his second. Alistair reached for the doorknob and gave it a twist. Jessimyn rarely kept her outer door locked, as there was normally little need, and she hadn't changed that practice even though she was using the rooms more than usual. As he stepped into her sitting room, Alistair felt the chill in the room. He didn't see Jessimyn, but she had obviously been there recently. There was another empty bottle sitting on a table, near a crumpled ball of paper. The fire was sputtering out, and Alistair went to tend it. He poked at it until it flared up again, and he moved to add another log when he caught light reflecting off of... something. Sticking the poker back into the hearth, he moved the embers around until he found what it was. It looked like a small piece of metal. With a shrug, Alistair put the poker back.

The door to Jessimyn's bedchamber was closed, and he wondered if she was inside. Surely she would have heard him... unless she was sleeping ,though it seemed a little early for that. But then his eyes found the empty bottle again, and he wondered if that was all she'd had to drink that night. Alistair picked it up, holding it under his nose, and he winced. He'd expected that it was just wine, but it smelled like the brandy he knew she liked. Surely the bottle hadn't been full, or even close. Still, if she'd had enough to drink, she might already be asleep. He was about to go knock at the door to her bedroom when he glanced at the crumpled paper on the table. There appeared to be writing on it, and he could tell at a glance that it wasn't Jessimyn's. Without really thinking, he smoothed it out.

Alistair hadn't planned on reading it, and had the first line not been so distressing to him, he probably would have just pushed it aside and gone to her door. As it was, he found himself sitting in a chair, reading the whole thing. It appeared to be some sort of love letter, written to Jessimyn. The first few paragraphs made him feel ill, but he couldn't stop reading. When he finally got to the end and saw the name scrawled there, it startled him. Maybe it shouldn't have. As he thought back, he realized there were signs that there had been something between the two of them, but he hadn't really thought much of them at the time. Alistair pushed the letter aside and stood up. He almost turned and walked out of the room, but he stopped. He was not some jealous little boy who would run off to sulk.

He knocked lightly at the door to her bedroom, but as before, there was no answer. He knocked again, louder the second time, and he heard the faint rustle of movement. The wild, irrational idea that she was not alone in the room flashed through his head, but he pushed it away. She'd just been asleep, and it took a moment to wake up. Of course that was it.

"Who is it?" Her voice asked, and he realized she had to be standing just on the other side of the door.

"It's me," he answered, and the door opened.

Jessimyn winced, squinting her eyes and taking a step back as the light from the outer room hit her. "Come in," she said, her voice hoarse. "It's too bright."

Alistair went with her into the bedroom, and she closed the door behind him. A quick glance around the room revealed that indeed she had been alone in the room. Of course she was. He was being ridiculous. After all, it wasn't as if the writer of the letter could have been there with her. Alistair turned his attention back to Jessimyn. "I had thought you might come to my rooms tonight," he said, and he wondered if his voice sounded funny.

"I didn't think that... you wanted me to," she said as she moved to sit on the bed. She was wearing a short nightgown that left her bare below the knee, and she pulled a blanket over her legs. "You didn't come to see me after you spoke with Ned, and I assumed..."

Alistair went to sit next to her. "No, I..." He shook his head. "I came back after she and I spoke, but you were still asleep, and I didn't want to wake you." He reached to brush her hair back from her face. "I thought that you..." He frowned. "You're bleeding."

"What?" Jessimyn asked, reaching up a hand to touch her neck. "No, that... it's fine."

Alistair ran a finger over the angry, red line on her neck. It wasn't bleeding as he'd originally thought. Rather, it looked like something rough had been dragged across her skin. He only had to look at the mark for a moment before he realized what it was. His finger moved down her shoulder, pulling the collar of her nightgown aside to make sure. "Your necklace is gone," he said.

"Oh, that. Yes. I... took it off," she said, looking away.

"It looks like it was yanked off," he said with a frown, putting a finger under her chin to make her look at him again.

"Well... the chain was stronger than I realized," she said weakly, shrugging her shoulders.

"I... don't think I've ever seen you take it off," Alistair said. "Why the sudden need to be rid of it?"

"I figured it was time," Jessimyn replied.

Alistair waited for more, but she said nothing further. "Jess, I..." He frowned, knowing that he had to tell her. "I'm sorry, but I... read Berton's letter." His next words came out in a rush. "It was sitting there on the table, and I didn't really mean to read it, but once I started, I couldn't..."

Jessimyn winced a little. "I'd forgotten I'd left it... I should have thrown it in the fire, too."

He realized he knew what the little piece of metal in the fireplace was. "Along with the necklace?" He asked, and Jessimyn nodded. "Jess, what's going on?" There were so many more questions he wanted to ask, but he refrained.

"What's going on?" She repeated, almost laughing. "Everything is falling down around us... me... and you're worried about a necklace? One you never really liked me wearing in the first place?"

"I'm worried about a necklace that obviously has meaning to you, perhaps more meaning than I ever realized, but still..." Alistair shook his head, trying to stay focused. "I've never seen you without it, and now tonight, after drinking what smells to be a considerable amount of brandy, you tear up your neck in an attempt to rip it off and throw it into the fire. Yes, that worries me." He reached for her hand. "Jess..."

With a sigh, she slumped against him, and Alistair put his arm around her. "I'm sorry you saw the letter," she said softly. "I know you don't... like to see things like that."

Alistair gave her his best smile. "What, you don't think I like to see definitive proof that the woman I love..." That word just slipped out, but he pressed on, trying not to make a big deal of it. "...has been with other men in her life? No, it's not my favorite thing, but... I know it was... a long time ago."

Jessimyn kept her head down as she leaned against him, and he wondered if it was because he had accidentally used the word they'd both been trying so hard not to say. "We were never..." she began. "He and I were never... I mean he wanted... but I..." The words seemed to fall away, and she was quiet for a moment. "He's the reason I'm here, you know."

"Because you feel he saved your life," Alistair said softly.

"No... I mean, maybe he did, but that's not what I meant. It was his letter that made me decide to stay in Denerim... with you." She finally looked at him. "He told me to listen to my heart. He and I talked about you quite a bit. Berton thought I made a big mistake, leaving that first time. He couldn't understand how I could leave when I... well, he made it clear he would have made a different decision, had he been in my place." She gave him a crooked smile. "Had he been me, I mean... oh, you know what I meant."

"I think I do," Alistair said, placing a hand on the side of her face. He realized he wanted to tell her that he loved her, no slips, no whispers when he thought she was asleep, but straight out. Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but Jessimyn spoke first.

"But look where following my heart has gotten me," she said, her head tilting down again. "Maybe I wouldn't have been truly happy, had I stayed in Amaranthine, but at least I wouldn't be feeling like _this_ right now. You'd probably be married, Ned would have a mother that everyone could be happy with, and I wouldn't be miserable. But no, I _had_ to listen to Berton's advice."

"I may have to tell the kitchens to stop supplying you with alcohol," Alistair said, trying to keep his voice light. "Especially if you're going to get this morose every time you drink." He pulled her closer, resting his cheek against her head. "Jess... no matter what happens, I wouldn't trade the years we've had together for anything. Now come on. Get up. Get dressed." He stood up and reached a hand down to her. Jessimyn gave him a confused look. "You're coming with me back to my rooms," he explained.

"What? No, I..." Jessimyn shook her head. "I don't think that idea is any better than it was two days ago."

"Your rooms are cold, Jess, and your bed is not nearly as nice as mine. I don't want to stay here, so you're going to have to come with me," he said. "I can't sleep without you, and tomorrow is going to be a long day, so I'll be needing sleep." He went and picked up the trousers and blouse she had discarded on the floor. "Here. Unless you'd prefer to walk through the halls in just your nightgown."

Jessimyn muttered something under her breath, but she stood up and changed back into her clothing. As they left her bedchamber, she had to hold onto Alistair's arm for support, but she pulled him to a stop as she passed the table where the letter sat. While reading it, he had smoothed it out, but Jessimyn grabbed it, crumpled it back into a ball, and made as if to throw it in the fire. Despite his desire to see the thing disappear into the flames, Alistair grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"You've kept that thing for... what, eight years now?" He asked. "Don't throw it away now, not when you're not thinking straight. I don't want you to regret it later." Alistair knew she would likely already have enough regret concerning the necklace, and he didn't want her to add the letter to it. Well, most of him didn't want that, anyway.

She continued to hold onto him as they walked down the hallway. She kept her head down, and they walked slowly, as if strolling along while in quiet conversation. Alistair tried not to make it too obvious that she needed the extra support to stay on her feet. Once they finally made it back into his rooms, into his bedchamber, Jessimyn flopped down onto the bed and pulled off her boots. She then peeled off her clothing, tossing it to the floor as she had done in her own rooms, before she climbed under the blankets. Alistair quickly undressed and got in next to her. Her body was cold, as he pulled her close to him, but they warmed up quickly enough under the blankets.

In the morning, they woke late to a sun that was at least an hour or two past sunrise. Jessimyn refused breakfast, telling him that, if he was as busy as he had claimed he would be the night before, then she didn't want to delay him further. He walked her to the door of his rooms, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her back as she reached for the doorknob. Alistair's lips met hers, and he held her close as they kissed.

"I'll see you tonight," he said when they finally parted, and Jessimyn nodded, again reaching for the doorknob.

But the door swung open before she even touched it, and Ellynedra took two steps into the room before she stopped cold, staring up at Jessimyn. Alistair watched as Jessimyn's face went pale, and his daughter gave him a hurt look. "What is _she _doing here?" She demanded.


	113. Alistair Chapter 113

Alistair felt just as frozen in place as Jessimyn and Ellynedra seemed to be. His eyes flicked between the two of them as they stared at each other. No one had spoken since Ellynedra had demanded to know why Jessimyn was there, and Alistair wasn't sure if anyone had moved... or breathed. Could time really stand still, because that's what it felt like was happening. Then, almost as one, Jessimyn and Ellynedra both turned away from each other, both reached up with a hand to angrily brush a tear from their cheeks. The movements were so identical, it almost made Alistair laugh, but those movements seemed to break the spell, and Jessimyn took a few steps back from Ellynedra, putting her further into the room instead of _out_ of it, which was where she clearly wanted to be.

"I'm sorry, Ned. Nedda." Jessimyn said, glancing at Alistair. The pain on her face was so raw, he wanted to reach out to her. Until he saw the same pain mirrored on his daughter's face, and then he wanted to go to Ellynedra. "I'm sorry," Jessimyn said again, taking a step to the side to circle wide around the princess to get out of the room.

Ellynedra stepped further into the room, away from the door and away from Jessimyn, but as Jessimyn started to leave, she cried out, "Wait!" Her voice was on the edge of hysteria, and Alistair still stood there, watching as the tears fell down his daughter's cheeks. He wanted to take her in his arms, wanted to comfort her and apologize to her, but he didn't move. Ellynedra didn't even seem to be aware that he was there, her eyes locked on the woman standing across from her. Jessimyn stood unmoving as well, and she looked terrified of why Ellynedra stopped her. The princess took a step, then two, moving closer, but when she held her hands up, Jessimyn dropped to a knee, and they pulled each other into a fierce embrace.

Finally capable of movement, Alistair skirted around them to close the door, lest any passersby should stop to watch the private moment between the two of them. From where he stood, he could only see Jessimyn's face, the tears leaking from her closed eyes, but he could see Ellynedra shaking, could hear her sobs. "I... I miss you," the princess managed when she was finally capable of speech.

"I miss you, too," Jessimyn replied in a hoarse voice.

But then Ellynedra was pulling away, and she moved quickly to Alistair, burying her head against his side as she continued to cry. Jessimyn looked at him as she brought her hands up to wipe at her face. He thought he saw the faintest flash, like a small glimmer of hope in her eyes, but if he did, it was gone as quickly as it arrived. She looked like she was going to say something, but then she just shook her head and went out the door. Alistair wanted to call to her, but he didn't.

Once the door was closed, he propelled his daughter to the couch. "Eldryn," he called, and the man poked his head out from the side room. "Have some breakfast brought up for us." The manservant bowed and disappeared again. Alistair turned his attention to the princess. "Nedda, sweetheart. Talk to me."

"Why was she here?" She asked again, rubbing her face with her hands.

Despite what he had told Jessimyn the night before, her being at his side did not end up helping him sleep better. He had lain awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts refused to move from the mental image of Jessimyn with Berton. Finally he had come to a realization that, strangely enough, might help him in explaining things to Ellynedra. "Because I wanted to see her," Alistair said in response to his daughter's question.

"But... why?" Ellynedra asked.

Alistair reached for his daughter's hand, stopping her from wiping her nose with her sleeve. He grabbed a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Nedda, I told you I want you to have time to think, to decide for yourself what to believe, and that's true. To help you with that, I've been trying to keep both Jess and your grandfather away, because I don't want you to make a decision because you feel sorry for one or the other. But Nedda, _I_ still talk to both of them."

"You talked to Grandfather, too?" She asked, and Alistair nodded.

"He was here yesterday." Alistair put his arm around Ellynedra. "Look, I know that you've been upset. You've just learned some pretty big things, and I know it's all a little overwhelming for you. But Nedda, you need to remember that _I _haven't just learned these things. I've always known, and the decisions I've made about who I... care about, who I'm friends with, was made knowing about what Fergus did to your mother. Does that... make sense to you?"

"I don't know," Ellynedra said, not looking up at him.

Alistair frowned, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Your grandfather, Jess, and I are not any different from how we were before you found out. The way we feel about each other, the way we act around each other, it hasn't really changed any for _us_. I know you probably feel like it should, but that's because all of this is new for _you_." He shook his head. "But I'm sorry Jess was here. I had hoped she would be gone before you got here. I hadn't meant for you to... see her like that."

"She was here because you still want to kiss her," Ellynedra said, her voice sullen, and Alistair was at a loss for a response. He wasn't sure what to say, as he didn't want to read more into her statement than what she meant by it. But as his mind worked furiously for a reply, Ellynedra sighed. "She was sad," she said.

"Jess?" Alistair asked, happy to have something else to respond to. "Yes, she was. How did you think she would be?"

Ellynedra shrugged. "I don't know. Mad."

Alistair patted her hand. "She's not mad," he said. He looked at her a moment before saying, "You know, it might be a good idea to talk to her. When you're ready. Your grandfather, too. Not by yourself, I'd be there with you, but it might help."

She leaned her head against his arm. "I don't know."

He nodded. "When you're ready. In fact, maybe it might be a good idea for all four of us to get together and talk."

"Why?" She asked.

"Well... you know, when I hold court, I have to hear from both sides when there's a disagreement or argument. It helps to have both sides there at the same time because sometimes people are less likely to lie when the person or people they're possibly lying about are standing right there, and sometimes it's easier to tell who to believe by watching their reactions to each other," Alistair said. "It's also important to remember that the story you hear first isn't always the right one. There's always more than one side to a story, and you can't make a good decision about anything without trying to find out everything you can."

"So... you think I should have a court for Jess and Grandfather?" Ellynedra asked.

"Well... that's not _exactly _what I meant," Alistair said. "But something like that, maybe. We could invite them both over, and you could ask them whatever questions you have. Do you think you might want to do that?"

"Maybe," she said softly.

Alistair just nodded, leaving it at that. He didn't want to push her. The food arrived, and they ate their breakfast. Alistair turned the focus of the conversation to the feast and the ball that night, and he was happy to see his daughter start to smile again. She was excited about getting to attend the ball for the first time. Once they finished eating, Ellynedra got up to leave, but her face fell as she reached for the door.

"Oh," she said.

"What is it?" Alistair asked. "What's wrong?"

Ellynedra looked down, clutching a little at her dress. "Jess and Leliana were supposed to help me get ready for tonight," she said.

"Well... I'm sure Leliana will still be there," Alistair offered, and she nodded. He had a feeling Jessimyn would be upset about missing out, however.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and before he knew it, he was taking Ellynedra's hand to lead her into the dining hall. As per usual, everyone else was already there when they arrived, and they stood as he walked his daughter to their seats. It wasn't until they were almost to their seats at the high table that he realized Jessimyn wasn't there. Sedric and Wulff had changed sides, as he had instructed, but there were three empty seats in the center of the table instead of two. He grimaced. It wouldn't have been so bad if Wulff had moved over so as to put himself at Alistair's side, but since he didn't, it would be glaringly obvious that Jessimyn was gone. As soon as everyone sat down, he could hear the whispers and see the looks. Her absence would only fan the flames that the gossip earlier in the week had started.

He wasn't sure what people thought of Jessimyn's absence, but when the dinner finished, there was a larger crowd around him than normal as people moved to the ballroom. He couldn't help but notice that the crowd mostly consisted of young, unmarried noblewomen. He had been _courting _Jessimyn, if it could even be called that, for almost five years, and they thought that he had gotten rid of her and was ready to move on, all within a week's time? Alistair was almost grateful that Ellynedra was going with him to the ball, just so he could use her as a buffer against the vultures who were circling around him. As they entered the room, he led her up to the dais at the front of the room, so they could sit and observe through the first few songs.

However, if he thought being away from the dance floor would keep the crowds away, he was wrong. Alistair did his best to be polite and smile, especially for his daughter's sake, but it was difficult to hold in _all_ of his anger. He was not happy that Jessimyn had simply chosen not to show up, had not even let him know she wouldn't be there. It made him look the fool, as the empty seat at dinner clearly showed that he had been expecting her presence. But he did his best to push that aside. He could deal with her later.

When he caught Ellynedra looking longingly at the dancing, Alistair offered her a hand, and together they went out to join the others. A space opened up around them as they danced, and Ellynedra seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention they were getting. When the song ended, they went back to their seats, only to be approached by Phillip of South Reach, along with his sister, Trissa. Phillip asked Ellynedra to dance, and Alistair grimaced. Few women asked Alistair to dance, as they usually waited for him to extend an invitation, but with Phillip leading his daughter out onto the floor, he had little choice but to ask Trissa. Apparently, many of the other nobles took note of the success of such a move, and it was repeated over and over again. Finally, a pair approached him that he was grateful to see.

Jenya and Bryce came up to the dais, and Alistair couldn't help but notice his daughter's shy reaction to their approach. When Bryce asked her to dance, she blushed a bright red, which Alistair found very strange, but she finally took his hand, and they went to dance together. Alistair and Jenya followed shortly behind them, and she gave him a small curtsey before the music started.

"So where is Jessimyn?" Jenya asked softly after the song had begun.

Alistair gave his head the smallest of shakes. "I don't know. Her absence is as much a surprise to me as everyone else."

"Is it because of Wulff?" She asked, and then she gave him an abashed smile. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

He shook his head again. "Maybe that would be true if anyone else had asked," he replied. "She and Nedda had a little run-in this morning. It was the first time they'd seen each other since... What is it?" Jenya's face had gone a little pale as she stared at something over his shoulder.

"I think Nedda just realized who Bryce's father was," she said softly, and Alistair turned his head to glance at the two children. Bryce, who was half a head taller than Ellynedra, was looking over the princess' head, a frown on his face. Ellynedra, on the other hand, was biting her lower lip as if she was going to start crying. "I didn't even think..." Jenya said with a grimace. "No, don't look at her," she continued. "Nedda is keeping it together, but if she sees you, she might lose the fight to keep from crying. Might I suggest you wait until the song ends to go to her?"

Alistair just nodded, cursing himself for not even considering what her reaction might be to Bryce and Lyla. They hadn't even talked about them, or Jenya, or the fact that they were all related to Fergus as well. His attention had been focused too much on Ellynedra's reaction to Jessimyn. As he slowly turned his head, he found Wulff in the crowd. The man seemed to have noticed what was happening between the children as well, and when their eyes met, Wulff gave him an almost apologetic look. They might be Fergus' wife and children, but they were also his cousins, and he didn't seem too happy that questioning Jessimyn's integrity might make Ellynedra question the others as well.

As soon as the song ended, Alistair and Jenya went over to their children. Ellynedra clutched at his hand as soon as she saw him, and he gave her a smile. "I think it's getting late, Your Highness," he said, loud enough that those around them could hear. "Perhaps it is time to retire for the evening?"

Ellynedra just nodded at him, and they slowly made their way out of the hall. They were stopped a few times as they moved, and Alistair was overly cheerful so as to draw attention away from his daughter, who was clinging to him. Finally they made it out of the hall and to Ellynedra's rooms. She managed to make it inside before the tears fell. "I'm sorry, Dadders," she said in a shaky voice.

Alistair picked her up. "You don't have to be sorry, Nedda," he said. "We should have talked about Jenya and Bryce and Lyla before, but I didn't even think of it."

"I think Bryce is mad at me," she said mournfully as she wrapped her arms around him. "He probably hates me now."

"He doesn't hate you," Alistair said soothingly. "I'm sure Jenya will talk to him, explain things. It will be all right."

Ellynedra let out a long sigh. "I don't want to feel like this anymore," she said softly. "I think... maybe you're right. Maybe we should talk to Jess and Grandfather."

"I think that's a good idea," he said.

"Maybe... tomorrow?" She asked.

Alistair looked at her. "If you're ready for it. It's up to you, Nedda."

She nodded. "But... you'll be there with me, right?" She asked.

"Of course," said Alistair.

Ellynedra nodded again. "Then we should do it tomorrow."

Alistair kissed her on the forehead. "I'll send them both a summons after breakfast, then. But for now, you should get some sleep, and I need to get back to my guests."

Once she was in bed, he left her rooms and slowly made his way back to the ball. He'd only gone a little ways before he stopped and turned around, taking a different hallway that led to Jessimyn's rooms. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. There was no response to a second or third knock, either, and when he reached for the doorknob, he found that it was locked. That brought a frown to his face. Jessimyn almost never locked her door, so she had to know he would come looking for her, had to have already decided she wouldn't grant him access to her rooms if he did. Alistair couldn't help but wonder if she'd been drinking again, if she was passed out in a dead sleep that would leave her with a headache in the morning. Well, if that was the case, it was her own fault. She would receive the summons in the morning regardless of her condition.

Of course, the idea of going back to his own rooms and drinking himself into sleep did have its own appeal to it. The thought was certainly more enticing than knowing he was going to have to go back to the ball, that he would be expected to dance with a number of women who, at best, thought that he and Jessimyn were having some sort of a fight. The fact that he no longer had his daughter as protection would probably only make things worse, though the idea that Ellynedra was protecting him made him shake his head at himself. Taking a deep breath, Alistair turned from Jessimyn's door and made his way back to the ball. There was nothing else he could do.


	114. Jessimyn Chapter 114

Jessimyn rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she slowly sat up. The light coming through the window indicated it was still early in the morning, and she dragged herself out of the bed. She had fallen asleep in her clothes, and she stripped them off before going to the wardrobe to find something else to wear. She'd spent the previous night in Alistair's rooms and had been able to dress in her usual blouse and trousers, but she'd forgotten to grab some extra clothing for herself, so she had to settle for a dress again. Once she was dressed, she brushed her hair, pulling it back into a braid.

She was not looking forward to the day. Eventually she would have to see Alistair, and she had a feeling he wouldn't be pleased that she'd missed the ball the night before. It was a cowardly thing to do, she knew, but the thought of having to pretend that everything was all right in front of a large crowd seemed like more than she could bear. Ellynedra's reaction to her the day before made her worried about how the little girl would act if they had to sit near at each other through the dinner, or if she had to watch Jessimyn and Alistair dance together. It was the first time Ellynedra was going to be allowed to attend a ball, and Jessimyn didn't want to ruin it for her.

Of course, what was really cowardly about Jessimyn's absence was that she hadn't let Alistair know beforehand that she wouldn't be there. There was really no reason for what she'd done, other than that she had simply wanted to avoid any further confrontations. Unfortunately, that would likely just lead to an even bigger argument later, but hopefully it wouldn't happen until all of the nobles had gone home, at a time when they might have at least some semblance of privacy in their affairs.

She flicked the lock on her bedroom door and went out into the sitting room. She had locked her doors in order to make sure that she wouldn't be disturbed, and sure enough, it seemed like she had heard knocking at some point during the night, though she couldn't be certain. But as she made it into the sitting room, she stopped dead. There was a letter propped up in the middle of her table, set in such a way that she would be certain to see it. She frowned, knowing that it hadn't been there the day before. Jessimyn grabbed the letter and broke the wax seal to see Alistair's familiar handwriting.

_Jess, _it began.

_I am disappointed that you chose not to attend the feast or the ball. I am equally disappointed that you chose not to let me know of your choice. Had I known you would not be there, I could have rearranged the seating so that your absence was not quite so obvious. But we will speak of that later. This letter is to inform you that you are summoned to my rooms at noon today, by order of the princess. _

_Alistair _

Jessimyn winced a little at the tone of the letter. It was obvious he was angry, but it was the summons that worried her. Why did Ellynedra suddenly want to speak with her, when she hadn't wanted to just the day before? With a shake of her head, Jessimyn pushed it from her mind. She would find out the reasoning soon enough. Narrowing her eyes just a little, Jessimyn went to the main door of her rooms and tested it. Locked. But then, had she been foolish to think that the king wouldn't have access to keys for all the rooms in the palace? Had he left the letter in her rooms and relocked the door just to make a point? She pushed that from her thoughts as well. It hardly mattered.

The morning was spent in her rooms. Not hiding, of course not, but she didn't want to have a chance encounter with Alistair or Ellynedra before the appointed time. So she had a bath, went over some reports, read a little. Finally it was time, and she made her way to Alistair's rooms. As she turned down the hallway that led to his door, she stopped. Wulff was standing at the king's door, and he turned his head as he caught her movement. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Jessimyn started moving again. If they had _both _been summoned... Jessimyn felt her stomach flip.

She was almost to the door when it opened, and Wulff actually stood aside to let her enter first. It surprised her, but she wondered if he was as nervous, and as clueless, as she was about the meeting. Neither Alistair nor Ellynedra were there, and the furniture had been arranged in a strange fashion. Eldryn gestured to two of the chairs, motioning for them to take their seats. Then he left, and Jessimyn was left alone with the teyrn. Neither spoke or even looked at each other, and they waited until finally the door that led to Alistair's bedchamber opened, and he and Ellynedra came into the room.

Jessimyn rose to her feet, as did Wulff. The whole thing had a very formal feel to it, and they both seemed to react to it. Alistair and Ellynedra moved to sit in the chairs facing the ones Jessimyn and Wulff were in. Once they were seated, Alistair gestured for the two of them to sit as well. He gave Jessimyn a look, one that said there were things he wanted to say but wouldn't in front of the other two. It was not a pleasant look, and she did her best not to flinch.

"We appreciate you both coming today," Alistair said, turning his attention to Ellynedra. "Nedda and I feel that perhaps the best way to resolve everything between us is to just get together and talk it over. No one is happy, and we cannot continue on in this way for much longer. Nedda and I will ask you both questions, and you will answer us. You are not to speak to each other unless instructed."

Jessimyn's eyes widened a little. Those were the same types of instructions normally given before court. She nodded her head.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Wulff said softly.

Alistair looked at Ellynedra, and she gave him a nervous smile and clutched his hand. Jessimyn felt a wave of sympathy for the little girl as the princess turned her attention to her. "Jess," she said. "Why..." She glanced at her father, and Alistair nodded at her. "Why did you... why were you Father's champion at that Landsmeet? Why did you kill your brother?"

Jessimyn blinked. Of all the things Ellynedra could have asked her, that was not a question she had been expecting. She took a breath to steady her voice, knowing that a short answer would not suffice. "When I first heard that Fergus was... imprisoned for the queen's death, I didn't want to believe it," she began. "So I came back from Amaranthine to Denerim thinking that it was some sort of grand misunderstanding, and that I would help to clear it up. Your father allowed me to visit Fergus in the dungeons, and..." Wulff made a sound at that, but Jessimyn continued speaking. "...and I spoke to him about... what had happened. I came to realize that he was not the man I'd known, that he was not the loving, caring person I remembered, and that he'd done the awful things he was accused of. That..." She looked at her hands. "That was a difficult realization to make, and it took some time to come to grips with everything it meant."

Her mind went back to those days, to the fog she'd been lost in, and she was quiet for a moment. "On the day of the Landsmeet, I wanted to just leave. To run back to Amaranthine, or Maker knew where, but I couldn't. I knew that leaving would make it look like I was guilty as well, but that wasn't my main concern. I knew that, if I left..." Jessimyn sighed softly. "What Fergus did was wrong, but I really think he believed he was justified in his actions because he believed it was for the betterment of his family. Family has always been the most important thing to the Couslands, and... I needed him to know that he had lost his family because of his actions. Jenya had already gone, had already taken Bryce and Lyla back to Highever to be away from him, so I was the only one left."

Jessimyn took another deep breath, staring off into the distance, not looking at anyone. "When he asked for a duel, I knew what I had to do. Had he fought anyone else, he might have died thinking that I supported him. He might have died thinking what he had done was right and justified, and I didn't want that. I told your father and grandfather that I wanted to be Alistair's champion to help redeem my family name, so that Bryce and Lyla might still be able to have a life, and that was partly true. But I also needed to show Fergus that he could _not_ be redeemed, as a man or as a Cousland. In truth, though..." She shook her head. "I meant to beat him, but I didn't mean to kill him. I knew he would be executed for his crimes, that he _deserved _to be executed, but I hadn't thought it would be my hand holding the sword, but maybe it was for the best. For him and for me."

No one spoke for a moment once Jessimyn finished. Wulff was looking off to the side, away from all of them, and Ellynedra was looking at her hands, but Alistair was looking right at Jessimyn, and she was only able to meet his eye for a moment before she turned away.

"Were you sad?" Ellynedra asked suddenly, and the question did not have the formality to it that her previous one had. Jessimyn had an idea that Alistair had helped her come up with questions to ask, but this was likely not one that had made the list.

"Yes," Jessimyn said simply, and she couldn't keep the emotion from her voice. "No matter what he'd done, no matter how much I believe he deserved the punishment he received, he was still my brother." It took everything in her not to look at Wulff as she spoke. "He was not always bad. I think... I think losing our parents the way we did brought a change in him. Not that it excuses anything, but I think that, in some twisted way, he felt he was doing what he needed to do for our family, since he hadn't been able to protect my mother and father." She shook her head. "But along the way, he forgot that, along with family, duty and honor are also important. To do what he did, to try and seize power at the expense of others, there was no honor in that."

Ellynedra crossed her arms over her chest, almost as if she was cold despite the fire blazing in the hearth, but she just nodded her head and turned to Wulff. "Grandfather... what did you think, when Jess said she'd be Father's champion?"

"I didn't trust her," Wulff answered immediately. "I thought perhaps it was some ploy to help her brother escape his punishment, or maybe her way of trying to fool us all into thinking she was innocent, that she hadn't been just as involved in your mother's death as Fergus was. How could she not be? Fergus was not the one who stood to benefit from Lyrina's death." His voice softened somewhat. "I've lost three of my four children. The boys I could almost understand. Men die in wars, and they fought bravely during the Blight. But Lyrina... no one deserves to die like that. No one deserves to be treated like they are a hindrance, like a piece of trash to be pushed aside once they've served their purpose."

"What do you mean?" Ellynedra asked, wrinkling her brow.

Wulff gestured with a hand. "Jessimyn all but admitted it. She stated she was incapable of having children. It seemed she and her brother simply waited until an heir was born, until _you _were born, and then they got rid of your mother so that she could take her place."

"How come you can't have babies?" Ellynedra asked suddenly, and by Alistair's expression, that was another question they hadn't talked about.

"I'm curious as well," Wulff said casually. "You've never been married, and I doubt you've ever _tried _to conceive..."

As much as she wanted to point out that he wasn't supposed to be talking to her, only to Ellynedra and Alistair, Jessimyn let it go. "It's... a part of being a Grey Warden," she said weakly.

"But Father's a Grey Warden, too," Ellynedra protested.

"Yes... but he's also a man," she replied, and the princess gave her a confused look. Jessimyn sighed. "This would be easier to answer had we already had the talk about... where babies come from," she said, and both of the men made choking sounds. Strangely enough, though, their discomfort at her words only made it easier for Jessimyn to speak. "It is a woman who is pregnant, a woman who carries the child until it is ready to be born. You're aware of this," she said, and Ellynedra nodded. "A man plays a part as well, but he merely has to... give the woman his seed." There were more choked sounds, and Jessimyn elaborated. "It takes many things to _be _a father. Love, patience, understanding... but to _father _a child, it doesn't take nearly as much from the man as it does for the woman to carry the child. The demand on a man's body is much less than it is on a woman's. Does that make sense?"

Ellynedra gave a little nod. "I think so."

"Well, becoming a Grey Warden... it's more than just taking an oath or making a pledge. There are... physical changes that occur in us. One of the things it does is make it almost impossible to have children once we have... gone through that change." Jessimyn brushed a hair from her face. "Your parents tried for years to have you, but it was made very difficult by the fact that your father is a Grey Warden. Luckily, your mother was healthy, and her body was able to carry you once she conceived. My own body is not so healthy as that. Even were I able to conceive, I don't think I would be able to carry a child. The chances are very low that the conception could even take place, but as a woman, I would have to not only beat those odds, but my body would have to cooperate through the next nine months until the baby was born."

"But..." Ellynedra frowned.

Alistair touched her arm. "We can talk about the details later, if you want," he offered, but by the look on his face, Jessimyn could tell he would probably rather face another Archdemon than have that conversation with his daughter.

But Ellynedra just nodded. "So is that why Father married my mother instead of you?" She asked. "Because you can't have babies?"

"It... was not quite so simple as that," Jessimyn said, floundering a bit at the question. "We... cared about each other a great deal, it's true, but... I never wanted to be queen." Wulff made a sound, but she ignored it. "Alistair was Maric's heir, and as such, the throne was his. Ferelden needed a strong king, and she found that in your father. But Ferelden also needed Grey Wardens, even though the Blight was ended. Regardless of the... feelings I may have had, my duty was to the Wardens, while your father's duty was to Ferelden."

"Did you _want _to marry him?" Ellynedra asked, and there was a hint of something in her voice. _Desperation _was too strong a word, but there was definitely a need there. It was Alistair's turn to make a sound, but it was the look on the princess' face that made Jessimyn grope for an answer.

"If... if things had been different... but they weren't." Jessimyn shook her head. "I've learned that dwelling too much on what might have been only causes pain, so I try not to think about it." She could tell that Alistair was looking at her, but she kept her eyes focused on Ellynedra.

"Do you still want to marry him?" Ellynedra asked.

Jessimyn suddenly realized what she was seeing on the little girl's face. It was hope. She should have guessed, based on Ellynedra's reaction when she saw her the morning before. She still loved her, but she was scared and wanted to know if things could still go back to the way they had been, it seemed. A heaviness about her began to lift. Of course, that didn't make Ellynedra's question any easier to answer. It was hardly a fair thing to ask.

"Nedda," Alistair said softly. "I think you're putting her on the spot just a little."

"But why?" Ellynedra asked. "She told me she loves you, and you said you love her, too."

Well that was even less fair. Jessimyn suddenly had nowhere safe to look, so she stared at her hands. She could tell that Alistair had turned his head to look at her, but she couldn't force herself to meet his eye, even had she wanted to. For once, though, she was actually grateful to Wulff and his bitter little sounds of protestation because the sound drew the princess' attention.

"Why don't you like her?" Ellynedra asked.

"I... I've already told you, though it would seem you are as easily swayed as your father," he said, though his words sounded forced.

"Do you really think..." Ellynedra's voice wavered a little. "Do you _really_ think she hurt my mother?" When Wulff didn't answer right away, she continued. "Because Dadders doesn't think she did, and I don't, either. We both love her, and she would be a good mother to me, and..."

Jessimyn glanced at Wulff to see his face go red. "Her brother _killed _your mother!" He said at nearly a shout.

It seemed Alistair was about to jump in, but Ellynedra beat him to it. "Maybe I don't care!" She yelled back, and everyone else went silent. Her lower lip trembled as she spoke. "I know my real mother is dead, but... does that mean I don't get to have one at all? I know you're sad that Mother is dead. I'm sad, too, but I never knew her. I'm sad, and I miss her, but when I try to think about her in my head, all I see is Jess. She's nice, and she loves me, and she makes me happy." Jessimyn pressed her eyes together, trying to stay in control of her emotions. "I know you don't like her brother," Ellynedra continued. "I don't like him, either. He was a bad man. But why don't you like _Jess_?"

"Because she shouldn't be here," he answered, his voice gruff. "Lyrina should be. Lyrina should be the one to watch you grow up, not anyone else. And every time I see Jessimyn, I see her brother, and I see the reason why your mother _isn't _here anymore."

"But you don't really think it's her fault, do you? I mean... you don't really think she hurt Mother, do you?" Ellynedra asked him in a pleading tone.

Wulff let out a long, low sigh, one that sounded like it was being pulled out of him. "I don't know what I think," he said finally. "I just know that I miss my daughter."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessimyn caught movement and looked up to see Ellynedra crossing the room to climb onto Wulff's lap. "I'm sorry, Grandfather," she said, and he hugged her to him. "But... do you ever try to be happy? Because it seems like all you are is sad. Can't you try to be a little happy sometimes?"

Wulff touched Ellynedra's hair. "I'm happy when I get to see my granddaughter," he said. "You look so much like her, you know? So much like your mother when she was your age," he said.

"Don't you think she would want you to be happy?" She asked. "Don't you think she'd want _me _to be happy? Because... I would be happy if Jess and Father got married."

"Nedda," Alistair said in a warning voice, and Wulff let out a sigh.

Ellynedra seemed to eye her father a little before continuing. "I really look like her?" She asked, and Wulff nodded. "Maybe... maybe you could tell me about her? Tell me about when she was little?"

"I'd like that," Wulff said. Jessimyn was looking at him, and she could see the tension around his eyes when he met her look, but it seemed... different. "Perhaps you could join me for lunch, and I could share some stories with you," he said to the princess. "If..." He looked over at Alistair. "If that's all right with you, Your Majesty."

"Don't call him that. That's silly," Ellynedra said.

"Her Highness has a point," Alistair replied, and his daughter smiled at him. "And yes, I think that would be all right."

Ellynedra jumped up, her hand in Wulff's, and the smile on her face betrayed no hint of everything she'd had to deal with over the past few days. When she caught Jessimyn's eye, the smile softened, and she went over to her. Jessimyn felt tears prick her eyes as the little girl put her arms around her. "I'm sorry if I made you sad," Ellynedra whispered in her ear.

"You didn't make me sad," Jessimyn replied, and Ellynedra leaned back to touch a tear that had managed to escape.

"But you're crying now," she said, the smile falling from her face.

Jessimyn shook her head. "Not because I'm sad, Nedda."

"It sounds funny when you call me _Nedda_," said the princess.

It was Alistair's turn for hugs next, and he and Ellynedra whispered something back and forth to each other for a moment before she took a step back to take her grandfather's hand. But then they were gone, back to Wulff's rooms, and suddenly Jessimyn was alone with Alistair. He turned to look at her, but his eyes just barely caught hers before she looked away. Why was she nervous?

Alistair moved to sit next to her, taking her hand in his. Fingers were raised to his lips, and he placed a kiss on each one. When he touched her shoulder, Jessimyn realized she had been tensing all the muscles in her upper body, and she struggled to relax. "Well... I think that went well," Alistair said, and Jessimyn looked at him to see a look on his face that looked almost... smug? The smile widened as he looked at her.

Jessimyn drew back a little. "What?" She asked, suspicious of the grin that was growing on his face.

A hand reached to rest on her knee, and he shrugged a shoulder. "So... do you?"

"Do I what?" Jessimyn asked.

He ran a finger over her cheek. "Do you... love me?"

"Oh, Maker's breath!" Jessimyn stood up suddenly and took a few steps away from him.

"Why is that such a hard thing?" He asked, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders. She winced as his fingers brushed the red mark left on her neck when she yanked Berton's pendant off. "There's no reason to hold back anymore," he said softly, his mouth close to her ear. "Nedda knows about Fergus, and she doesn't care. She still..." He gently turned her around to face him. "She still loves you," he said.

"Yes, well... I think my head is still spinning," Jessimyn admitted. "I think we've all been through a lot this past week, and..."

"Do you love me?" He asked again, cutting her off, the grin back on his face.

"Alistair..."

He chuckled softly. "It's an easy enough question to answer," he said cheerfully. "And apparently you've already told Nedda, so it's only fair that I get to hear it, too." His arms went around her waist, and he nuzzled her neck. "Do you love me?" He asked again in a whisper.

"Maker, Alistair... you know I do," she said, and then his lips were on hers. His hands went up into her hair, pulling it free of the braid so that it fell free around her face.

"I want to hear you say it," he said in a breathy voice when he finally broke the kiss.

Jessimyn reached a hand up to run her fingers through his hair. "I love you," she said.

Alistair placed his hand over hers, his smile softening. "I love you, too." Then, in a sudden move, he swept her up into his arms, cradling her to him as he stumbled towards the door to his bedchamber, kicking it open with a foot.

With a mock look of shock on her face, Jessimyn said, "What, you think that I'll just fall into bed with you, just because you tell me you love me?"

Alistair gave a snort of laughter. "Oh, no, of course not," he said as he unceremoniously dumped her onto his bed. "However, I'm still upset by your absence at the ball last night, and I think it's time for your punishment now." He pulled off her boots, then kicked off his own before climbing up next to her. "I'm not sure if you deserve a spanking, or..." And then he attacked the backs of her knees. Jessimyn shrieked, thrashing about to try and get away from him, but when he finally stopped his assault, he was lying practically on top of her, the hardness at his groin pressing into her hip. "This is a very silly dress," he said, running a finger over the collar. "I think you should take it off."

But when they were undressed, he just lay at her side, running a finger up her body. "Did you know that she..." Jessimyn began. "Did you know Ned would..."

Alistair shook his head. "We talked some last night, and again this morning. I could tell that she was... softening towards you, but I wasn't sure how today would go. I think the revelation about Fergus was a shock, but I knew she would come around."

"I didn't," Jessimyn said softly. "I hoped, but..."

"Ever the pessimist," Alistair said with a smile. "Now... tell me again."

Jessimyn laughed. "I love you," she said, then she let out a little yelp as he bit at her shoulder. "Alistair..." She smiled as she tried to shove him back. "You can't keep doing that. Maker, you act like a teenage boy. It's unseemly for me to be walking around with bruises on my neck and shoulders all the time."

Alistair gave her a pout. "But... I never got to act like a teenage boy when I actually _was _one. What if... what if I just avoid places that will be visible?"

"Fine, fine," she said with a smile, and he shifted in the bed, sliding his body down hers. Jessimyn closed her eyes, just enjoying the feel of his hands and mouth on her body, but when he paused, she looked down at him. He had a hand on her stomach, his chin resting on top of it as he looked up at her.

"So... what did you think of Nedda's other suggestion?" He asked, and Jessimyn raised her eyebrows. "You know, about... getting married." Jessimyn grabbed a pillow and hit him over the head with it. "Hey! What was that for?"

"We've just had a very traumatic week, one where I wasn't even sure if I'd ever..." She shook her head. "Things are almost back to normal, and you want to add a whole other level of crazy to our lives?"

Alistair grinned. "You're right. I'll ask again later." He ran a hand up the inside of her thigh. "I suppose it's a good thing that all I have to do is tell you I love you, for you to... fall into bed with me. Were you one of those women who wanted to wait until after your wedding day, I think my head would have exploded by now." She laughed, and he kissed his way over her hip. "I do love you, though, Jess." He pulled her close, hugging her to him as tightly as he could. "I always have."


	115. Alistair Chapter 115

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reposting this to fix a factual error. Thanks to _Liso66_ for pointing it out!_

The wind had a bite to it when it blew through the practice yards, causing little eddies of snow to swirl about on the otherwise cleared ground. Occasionally the wind would catch the corner of Alistair's thick, fur-lined cloak, causing it to flap about, but when it calmed, it was relatively pleasant outside, considering it was the dead of winter. At least the sun was out. He leaned against the railing surrounding the yard, stamping his feet on the ground every now and then to help keep them warm. The cold didn't seem to affect Jessimyn and Ellynedra, who were both dressed in their armor in the center of the yard, where they'd been practicing and sparring for nearly an hour. It had been a long time since Alistair had been able to observe them, and he was impressed by how much his daughter had improved.

Other than Wulff, all of the other nobles had finally returned to their homes. The night of the meeting between the four of them, Jessimyn had been at his side during dinner, which seemed to stir up another wave of gossip, but Alistair couldn't find it in him to care. Things were back to the way they were supposed to be, and that was all that mattered. Besides having to see all of the nobles off as they left, Alistair had a small break from meetings and court, as was usually the case immediately following a Landsmeet. However, he had never appreciated the free time quite so much as he had the past few days. It had only been a few days, the time he'd been left wondering if his little family would be able to stay together, but he couldn't help but feel like they had a lot of time to make up for.

It had actually taken almost a day for Jessimyn to convince Ellynedra that she wasn't upset with her, but after that, the two of them had fallen back into their old routines. In the past, Alistair had sometimes felt left out, as if the two of them kept secrets from him. Secrets between women, the types that most men probably wanted to know nothing about, he was sure, but secrets nonetheless. Now, when he saw them whispering together, it made him smile. He was smiling as he watched them in the yards, and he didn't notice Wulff walking over to him until the man was standing at his side.

"I'm surprised you let her do that," he commented, and Alistair turned to look at him. The statement wasn't made with his usual bite, however, and Alistair took it at face value rather than getting upset at some supposed underlying meaning.

"Only due to Nedda's insistence," he replied. "And Jess' promise that they would be safe. I'd certainly been hesitant about the whole thing at first, but they both seem to enjoy it. And look how well Nedda wields a sword now," he added, not attempting to hide the pride in his voice.

"It hardly seems an activity befitting a princess... but what do I know?" Wulff shrugged. "I suppose she won't be Ferelden's first queen to know how to hold her own on a battlefield, though Maker help her never have to resort to using those skills." He cleared his throat softly. "And speaking of queens..." Alistair turned to look at the man, tensing a little. He certainly didn't want another confrontation, not here, not where everyone could see. "Do you... have plans to make Jessimyn your queen, now that her secret is out in the open? I only ask because Ellynedra seems quite certain that you will."

Alistair turned his head to once again watch Jessimyn and Ellynedra practicing. Normally he would have regarded such questions with suspicion, but Wulff truly seemed to be trying to make an effort to be more accepting of Jessimyn. Well, maybe not accepting, but at least tolerant of her. "I don't know," Alistair answered honestly. "I would like to, but..." He gave Wulff a smile. "I didn't lie when I told you she has little desire to be queen."

"Well, you can't continue on as you've been," Wulff remarked, and Alistair gave him a frown. "It's hardly appropriate for you to... live with her as if she's your wife, when she's not. Ellynedra is still young, and perhaps she is unaware of the... nature of your relationship with Jessimyn, but she's not _that _young, and she'll figure it out soon enough." He smiled a wry smile. "Especially once you finish that conversation with her about where babies come from."

Alistair grimaced at the thought. "Oh, right... I'd forgotten about that." He eyed Wulff. "Wait, so are you... encouraging me to marry her, then? After years of wanting her gone, wanting her to have nothing to do with either of us, now you suddenly approve?" He couldn't help but smile at the thought. "That must have been some conversation you had with Nedda."

Wulff scowled. "Yes, well... I don't think _approve _is the right word, but... maybe you were right, that I've been focusing too much on my own pain and anger without really considering what is best for Ellynedra. She's certainly taken with Jessimyn, and..." He nodded his head in her direction. "I'll admit, she's good with my granddaughter. And, were she not a Cousland, did we not have the history between us that we do, I'd also have to admit that she's the type of woman I'd hope for you to marry. She obviously would not push you to have another child with her, only to then push for that child to be named heir. She doesn't treat Ellynedra like some pawn to be used to get to you."

"So you no longer believe she is just trying to manipulate us to put herself in a position of power?" Alistair asked, still smiling.

"She's already in a position of power," Wulff replied. "Besides, if you were so easily manipulated by sex, it would probably be a younger, prettier woman on your arm instead of her. I mean no offense, of course, but Jessimyn has seen battle, and she _looks _like she's seen battle. The scars on her face alone would be enough to deter most men."

Alistair turned his head to watch Jessimyn. "Ah, but you should have seen her the day I met her. Sure, she's older now, and harder, but aren't we all? I'll always find her beautiful, no matter how old or scarred she becomes. No doe-eyed beauty could ever compare."

"My Lyrina never really had a chance, did she?" Wulff asked, his voice sad, and Alistair winced. He hadn't even thought about what his words might have meant to him. Wulff held up a hand. "I understand what it's like. My marriage to her mother was arranged as well, and I know how difficult it can be, to suddenly find yourself married to a woman you don't even know. Lyrina came to me a few times, upset because she felt you seemed distant from her, and she wanted to know what she could do to win your affection. When I heard she was with child, I had hoped that might be what you both needed, what would help you grow closer together, but... you were never given that chance." He sighed. "And perhaps I've blamed Jessimyn for that as well."

"Do you still?" Alistair asked, wary of his answer.

Wulff sighed softly. "In a way. In a way I'm sure I'll always feel she had at least some part in my daughter's death. But what Ellynedra said struck me. She said I'm always sad, that I never try to be happy, and maybe she was right. And if my actions and feelings towards Jessimyn are causing my granddaughter distress, then... maybe it's time I do something about them." Alistair gave him a surprised look, and Wulff chuckled. "Oh, don't look at me that way. I may be an old man, but I'm still capable of change, when it's required of me."

"I just... hadn't thought it would come so quickly," Alistair admitted.

"It's not complete, but I'm trying," Wulff said with a shrug. He lifted a hand up to his nose. "And maybe I just needed some sense knocked into me," he added, actually smiling a little.

Alistair couldn't help but grin. "Well, then I'm glad to have helped." Wulff snorted softly, and the two men turned their attention to the practice session going on before them. They watched in silence, but once it became clear that they were finishing up, Wulff made as if to leave. "You don't have to go," Alistair offered, but Wulff shook his head.

"Let's not push anything too quickly," he said before offering a bow. "If you would excuse me."

Alistair gave him a nod and watched as he made his way back to the palace. Well, it was a start. And really, if Wulff had acted like there had never been any animosity between Jessimyn and himself, as if he was suddenly fine with everything, he wouldn't have believed him. He turned his attention back to his daughter. He'd have to remember to ask her what she'd said to her grandfather. As Ellynedra bounded over to him, stripped of her armor, dressed only in a loose undertunic and breeches, he gave her a smile, holding out her cloak to her. Her face was pink and flushed, but he knew she would grow cold quickly.

"Was that Grandfather?" She asked, peering in the direction that Wulff had gone.

"It was," Alistair said simply. When he saw her frown, he gave her a smile. "He had some things he needed to do, but he'll see us at dinner." Ellynedra was overly sensitive to any sort of strife between the three adults, and Alistair did his best smooth things over, especially considering the things Wulff had said. "Really," he said. "He wanted to come watch you and Jess practice, but he's still pretty busy, trying to get his things in order for his trip back to Gwaren." He smiled as Jessimyn joined them. "It's obviously been too long since I've come to watch you practice. I can't believe how much better you've gotten." Then he gave Jessimyn a look. "And how long ago was it that you switched her to two weapons?"

"Only because I begged her to," Ellynedra cut in quickly. "And not that long ago. But I don't like the shield, and I want to fight like she fights."

Alistair chuckled. "I'm not mad. Yes, I wanted you to _start_ with sword and shield, especially when you were younger, but I never really assumed you'd stick with it. You're built like Jess, and you move like she does, so it makes sense that you'd be more adept at her way of fighting than mine."

They all walked back to the palace together, though they parted ways as Jessimyn and Ellynedra both went to take a bath after their practice session. Alistair had tried to follow after Jessimyn, but she shooed him away, as if the thought of a little sweat on her body would repulse him or make the act of watching her bathe any less enjoyable. Still, he allowed her the privacy she desired. Wulff joined them later that night for dinner, as he had many of the nights before. It was still awkward, and he and Jessimyn still spoke mostly to Alistair and Ellynedra and only rarely to each other, but they were polite, and having everyone together seemed to please Ellynedra to no end. It pleased Alistair, too, but he knew it was for his daughter's sake that the effort was being made.

It was a few days later before Wulff departed for Gwaren. It had seemed even more difficult for Ellynedra to wish him farewell than normal, and she had clung tightly to Alistair's hand as they watched him depart. Despite the turmoil caused by his visit, Alistair was almost sad to see him go as well. They had all made progress, in the relationship among the four of them, and he hoped Wulff wouldn't slide back to his previous way of thinking once he was back in his own home. Jessimyn seemed worried about that as well, but then she was always pessimistic about such things.

Winter gave way to spring, which, following the normal pattern of things, led into summer. One particularly nice day, Alistair found himself in a meeting with his treasurer without Jessimyn at his side. She almost always sat in on such meetings, but she'd begged off, claiming that she had Grey Warden paperwork she needed to see to at the compound. Alistair had a feeling she was just using that as an excuse to skip out on what they both knew would be an extremely boring couple of hours. And sure enough, when he found her later, she was in his bedchamber, standing over a vase. She straightened as he entered.

"Oh, you're back," she said, giving him a smile. She gestured to the flowers. "I… stopped by your garden on my way back from the compound and noticed the roses were in bloom, so I picked some. I know how you like them."

"Uh huh," he said, closing the distance between them.

"I mean, I like them, too. I just thought..." She trailed off as he slid his arms around her waist. "I… really did have paperwork to see to."

Alistair chuckled. "I highly doubt that," he said as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "And the fact that you felt the need to reiterate the point makes me think you _know _I doubt it."

"I do still have Grey Warden duties to see to, you know," Jessimyn said, tilting her head to one side to give him better access to her neck.

"Uh huh," he said again. "Funny how those duties always seem to come up when there's some tedious task to do here, isn't it?" She made a protesting sound, and he laughed. "I'll let it go this time, but the next time we have some horribly boring meeting scheduled, _you _get to go, and _I _get to go play in the garden."

"Oh, the poor king works so hard," Jessimyn said with a smile as she patted his cheek, and it was Alistair's turn to scoff.

"I never said I was working hard, my dear lady," he replied, kissing at her neck again. "Just that I was bored. And it might have been nice for you to be there to... you know, distract me." He grinned before releasing her, taking a step back as he turned to go to his balcony. Alistair opened the doors and went outside, looking down over his garden. Jessimyn followed him out to stand at his side, resting a hand on his arm. They just stood there for a while, admiring the view, when he suddenly asked, "Do you remember the day we met?"

Jessimyn laughed. "That was sort of a big day for me, if you'll recall. It's not one I'd likely forget," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "What made you ask that?"

"I don't know," he said, putting an arm around her. "Maybe it was the roses. Do you... remember that rose I gave you, the one I picked in Lothering?"

Jessimyn laughed softly. "That's something else I'll likely never forget. I'd been given flowers before, a few times, but never one that was already wilted and dried up." She glanced up at him and smiled. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You know I loved it. It certainly meant more to me than any flowers I'd ever been given before. Do you remember how upset I was when it finally fell to pieces?"

Alistair grinned. "I think you just _pretended _to be upset in the hopes that I would comfort you... in a very thorough way. You _were _pretty shameless in your attempts to get me into bed with you, so it's hard to say what you would have done. I mean... giving you that rose was very brave and forward for me at the time, and I'd certainly never had the experience of being pursued by a woman before." He laughed. "There were times I wasn't really sure what to think of you, I'll admit." He reached up to push a stray hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling nervous. He hadn't planned the conversation, but it provided him the perfect set up. "I, um... I..."

Jessimyn pulled away a little to look at him better. "What is it?" She asked. "What's wrong?"

"What? Oh, nothing. I..." He gave her the best smile he could manage. "Just... wait here a moment."

Alistair ducked back into his room and went over to the wardrobe. He opened one of the smaller drawers inside, moving aside a few things to extract the three boxes that had been sitting there for the past couple months, waiting for the right time to bring them out. Only a brief moment was spent wondering if he was being too hasty, if it wouldn't be better to continue to wait, but he brushed the thought aside. He could spend the next few months waiting for the right time. Tucking the three boxes under his arm, he went back to the balcony. Jessimyn watched him curiously as he laid them out along the flat edge of the railing, arranging them in size from largest to smallest, though none were very big.

"What's all this?" Jessimyn asked.

"Just... some things I've been wanting to give you." He slid the largest of the boxes over to her. "Open this one first."

She made no move to take it. "What is it for?"

Alistair smiled at her. "Isn't a man allowed to give the woman he loves a present every now and then? Just open it."

Finally she took the box into her hands and lifted the lid slowly, letting out a small gasp when she saw what was inside. "Alistair..." she said.

"Do you... like it?" He asked as he reached to lift the item from the box. It was a necklace he'd had made for her, a ruby pendant the size of his thumbnail. It was encircled by tiny, alternating emeralds and diamonds, and he wondered if she would recognize the intent of the design. "It's supposed to be..."

"...A rose," Jessimyn finished. "Yes, I... It's beautiful."

Alistair moved around behind her, bringing his arms around her to fasten it at the back of her neck. "Do you remember what I said that rose, the one I found in Lothering, meant to me? How it symbolized that there could still be goodness and beauty in a world that otherwise seemed to be filled with despair?" Once the clasp was set, he ran his fingers over her neck, his lips brushing over her ear. "And how I felt the same way about you, that you were like a light in the darkness, that you were one of the best things, one of the only truly good things, that had ever come into my life. I... want you to know that I still feel the same."

Jessimyn turned around, putting her arms around him, and Alistair tilted his head down to take the kiss she was offering. When he leaned back, she looked down at the pendant, lifting it with a hand. "It's lovely. Thank you."

After running a finger over her cheek, Alistair reached for the second box. He held it in his hand as she reached to remove the lid. Inside was a pair of earrings, made to match the pendant, although the rubies in the middle were considerably smaller. "No pretty speech for these," he said with a smile. "You know, since they're made to match the necklace. Maybe I should have put them in the same box."

"Alistair, I..." Jessimyn shook her head. "They're beautiful."

"Put them on," he said, and once she had, he reached for the final box. "This last one... it comes with a small, minor stipulation..." He held it out to her, and she hesitated just a moment before reaching for it to lift the lid. She just stared into the box, and Alistair took it back to pull out the ring, his final gift, created in the same style as the other two pieces he'd given her. He held it in one hand, taking her own with his other. "Jess, I love you. I will always love you. Everything I have today, everything I am, it's because of you. I can't imagine what my past might have been, if you had never been a part of it. I can't imagine what my future will be if you're not always with me. You will always be my rose, my light in the darkness. There is only one thing I could still ask of you, one thing that could make the happiness I feel to be perfect, and that would be for you to become my wife. I want you always at my side, and as my queen, you would be. I love you, Jess, and I want to know... will you marry me?"

Alistair wasn't sure he breathed as he stood there, watching the range of emotions that passed over her face. As her eyes filled with tears, he lifted her hand to place it against his chest. "Do you _want _to be my wife?" He asked carefully.

"Yes, but..."

"Then say yes," he said. "Just... be my wife, and the queen part will take care of itself. The title won't bring _that _much change, other than a larger room and a better chair to sit in."

Jessimyn blinked her eyes rapidly, reaching up to wipe at a tear that made its way to her cheek. "Would you think me terribly silly if I said the queen part bothered me less than the idea of the ridiculous wedding that would probably be required?"

Alistair smiled at that. "Silly, yes, but also completely in character for you." He laughed softly, squeezing the hand he held to his chest. "But what's one day of tedious ceremony compared to the rest of our lives?" His tone became somber as he continued. "As much as I'd like to think in terms of _forever _with you, we both know we likely have ten or so years before we'll have to answer the Calling. I want to spend those ten years with you as my wife."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Yes?" He repeated, the smile creeping back onto his face, and she nodded.

The ring slipped easily onto her finger, and then his lips were on her, his hands were on her, and Jessimyn pulled him close as he pressed her up against the railing. It was a warm day, but not nearly warm enough to account for the heat building between them, and when Jessimyn finally pushed him back, they were both panting a little. Without a word, he took her hand and pulled her into the bedroom. The door had only just barely closed when their hands were on each other again. He began removing her blouse as she reached up to undo the clasp on her necklace.

"No," he said. "Leave the jewelry on."

"The necklace will get tangled in my hair," she replied, and Alistair grinned.

"Not if you're on top," he said, finishing with the last button of her blouse so that he could run his hands up over her breasts.

"You know," Jessimyn said as her hands went to the laces of his breeches. "I think this whole queen thing is just some sort of clever ploy to get me to wear more dresses."

Alistair laughed softly as he shifted to kick off his boots. "An added bonus, perhaps, but right now I don't want you wearing more of _anything_."

Once their clothes were discarded, they moved to the bed, and as she straddled him, Alistair put his hands on her hips. Jessimyn leaned back, her hands held behind her to rest on his legs just above the knee. She tilted her head back, causing her back to arch in just the right way, and he looked up at her with adoration. "Maker, you're beautiful," he said before speech was completely lost to him.

Later, as they lay side by side, Alistair put an arm around her as his other hand reached up to play with the pendant at her neck. "I love you," she said, giving him a contented smile.

"I had a feeling you did," he said with a grin.

They gave Ellynedra the news that evening at dinner, and the little girl had actually screamed, jumping up and down as she tried to decide who to embrace first. She'd been disappointed when they told her she had to keep it quiet for a little while, though she seemed to understand when Alistair explained why.

"Once we announce this," he told her. "Word will spread quickly. I want to send a letter to your grandfather, to make sure he hears the news from me personally, rather than have the gossip reach him first."

Ellynedra snuggled herself in between them both as they sat together on the couch. "But I want to tell someone," Ellynedra begged. "Can't we tell just _one _person? What about Leliana? Can we tell her, please?"

Alistair chuckled. "We'll see. But not tonight," he said, leaning down to kiss her on the top of the head before leaning over to give Jessimyn a kiss. "Tonight is just for us."


	116. Jessimyn Chapter 116

The waited to hear back from Wulff before announcing their betrothal. The message he sent was polite yet coldly formal, but that didn't surprise Jessimyn. He was trying to be accepting, and she appreciated the effort, but it was naïve to think he could just change eleven years of thinking overnight. Still, the fact that he was willing to offer them congratulations at all showed that he had come a long way. Jessimyn hoped that, once the dreaded wedding was over, Wulff would see that his protestations about the marriage were unfounded.

Jessimyn _did _dread the ceremony, though. Both ceremonies, as there would also have to be a coronation after the wedding. But in both cases, there would be no way to hide, no way to keep from being the center of attention. She had never envied Alistair the duty of having to greet all of the nobles individually during Landsmeets and other large events, but now Jessimyn would have to be there with him. She'd no longer be able to duck away, to make excuses why she couldn't attend such functions. Whenever she tried to protest to Alistair that perhaps the wedding was a mistake, he just laughed and told her she would have to manage. In fact, she assumed he announced their engagement as quickly as he could simply so she would have a much harder time backing out.

Not that she would, not seriously, but there were times, when she became overwhelmed with all of the details, that she wondered if she should have given Alistair a different answer. Things were good as they were. Why did they need to go and change them? But whenever she expressed such fears, usually to Leliana, she was told she was being silly. Maybe she was. But every time she found out about one more thing she would have to do, one more thing that would be expected of her, the fear came bubbling up. Mostly, though, she kept her worries to herself. Everyone else seemed so happy, so excited.

It was barely over a week after the betrothal was announced, and the wedding date was set for the following spring, that Maura just showed up in Denerim, her husband in tow. When Jessimyn received word that there was a large, angry woman at the gates, demanding to see her, she knew that's who it had to be. But if Maura had been angry about being held up at the gates, the anger disappeared when she saw Jessimyn, and the woman actually squealed when she saw her.

"You know I'm making your dress," Maura said by way of greeting as she engulfed Jessimyn in a hug.

"Good to see you, too, Maura," Jessimyn said with a smile. "Hello, Rian."

Maura's husband gave her a rueful smile. "I hope you will forgive the impromptu visit," he said. "When we got the news, Maura all but dragged us out of Amaranthine that day to make the trip here."

Jessimyn gestured for a pair of servants and told them to have a room made up for the two of them. "Why don't you two go rest, freshen up," she offered.

"I do need to wash my face," Maura said. "But then I'm coming right over, to get started. I managed to make a few sketches on the trip here, and I want to get your opinions on them."

"Oh my," Jessimyn said with a grin. "I get to have an opinion on the dress? To what do I owe this honor?"

"Well, it's _your_ wedding, after all," Maura said in an exasperated voice. "Are you still in the same rooms?" She asked, and Jessimyn nodded.

The couple was led away, and Jessimyn went straight to her rooms. Knowing Maura, she would be knocking on her door within a matter of minutes, and as the room hadn't been used at all in months, Jessimyn wanted to make sure it was presentable. At least it was summer, so there was no need to start a fire, but she opened up the windows to allow a little fresh air in. She wondered if Maura was planning to stay in Denerim until the wedding. Jessimyn dreaded the idea of Maura being there the whole time. Not that she didn't enjoy the woman's company, but she already had Leliana to deal with, and one overly excited woman was enough.

When Maura arrived at her rooms, she had a stack of papers with her, and she spread them out on a table to show Jessimyn her designs. She seemed excited to finally get a chance to make something that Jessimyn would wear in a season other than winter. Some of the drawings Maura showed her were of dresses that were completely indecent, some that seemed to show more skin than they covered. They finally agreed on one, and Maura left to get started. Jessimyn just shook her head as she watched her leave. Knowing Maura, she wouldn't take any time to rest at all from her trip, as if she had only days to complete the dress rather than months.

The one good thing about having Maura there was that she was able to push most of the planning off on her and Leliana. They could spend all their time discussing every boring detail, leaving Jessimyn to do... anything else. The only time Jessimyn tried to feign excitement was when Ellynedra was around. Otherwise, she tried to avoid as much of the wedding planning as possible. Alistair, on the other hand, just seemed amused by the whole thing. In fact, he was in an annoyingly good mood that whole summer, and even well into the fall. Until he had his first nightmare, that is.

Jessimyn had been awakened from her sleep one night, and she half sat up in bed. Alistair made a noise, and she realized that was what had pulled her from her sleep. A memory came back to her, of lying next to Berton as his nightmares intensified, and she felt a cold fear run through her. It was too soon. They were supposed to have at least ten years still. Alistair cried out again and sat up, his eyes going wide. Jessimyn sat up fully, putting her arms around him. His body was covered in a cold sweat, and he was trembling.

"What is it?" She asked, afraid to hear his answer.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he murmured, pulling her to him as they lay down again. "It's fine, really. Just a bad dream." When she just looked at him, he smiled. "Even Grey Wardens are allowed to have bad dreams every now and then," he said. "They don't always have to mean something." But the look in his eyes showed that even he wasn't fully convinced of his words.

When he had another a few days later, Jessimyn wouldn't let him brush it off again. "Tell me what it was about," she said. "If it was really just a bad dream..."

He was quiet for a long while, and she was about to nudge him, afraid that he had fallen back to sleep, when he finally spoke. "It was nothing. Just let it go."

"I can't just _let it go_," she protested. "If you're having nightmares, I think..."

"They're not nightmares," Alistair said irritably. "Not like that. Just... go back to sleep."

"Then tell me what they _are _like, so I don't worry," Jessimyn said as Alistair rolled onto his side so he was facing away from her. She touched his shoulder, and he flinched. "Alistair..."

He sat up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Without a word, he pulled on a pair of breeches and stood up. Jessimyn watched as he went to the door and went outside onto the balcony. She sat there for only a moment before she, too, got up. Pulling a sheet around herself, she followed him outside. Alistair was leaning against the railing, but instead of looking down over his garden, he was looking up. He didn't turn to look at her as she moved to stand next to him, but he reached for her hand.

"Do you remember when we were... first getting to know each other?" He asked. "When the weather was nice, we used to put our bedrolls together and look up at the stars. Do you remember?" Jessimyn nodded, but she wasn't sure if he even saw her. "I used to wish we could stay like that forever," he said. "Those seemed to be the only really peaceful moments we had back then." Jessimyn released his hand so she could put her arms around his waist, and Alistair pulled her to him. "I don't even know why I'm bringing it up. I just..." He finally turned his head to look at her, putting his hands on the sides of her face to brush her hair back.

"Just what?" Jessimyn prompted him when he fell silent again.

"I just never wanted there to be any other woman other than you. You know that," he said.

Jessimyn nodded. "I know."

"But I've been having dreams about... someone else," he said as he once again looked away.

"Oh," she said carefully. "Who? Lyrina? Or..."

"No, not Lyrina," Alistair said.

"Then who?" Jessimyn asked. "Someone you... have feelings for?"

"What?" Alistair asked, and he seemed genuinely surprised at the question. "Maker, no. I..." He let out a harsh sigh. "It's Morrigan," he said. "I've been dreaming about Morrigan."

Jessimyn's eyes widened. Of all the people he could have said, that was the last name she'd been expecting. She hadn't even thought of the woman in years. "What sorts of dreams are they?" She asked, and when his face reddened a little, she had her answer. "I see," she said, trying to pull back from him, but his arms tightened around her so that she couldn't.

"No, Jess," he said. "It's not like that. I mean... it is, but..." He sighed, pressing his cheek against the side of her head. "In the dream, it starts out that night. The night we... that night in Redcliffe. But in the dream, I'm not me. That is, I don't... it's like I'm standing off to the side, watching it happen. I know that probably sounds worse, but it's not really a..." He seemed to have to force the words out. "...sexual dream. There's sex, yes, but..." He shook his head. "That part is over quickly. It's almost like I hear something behind me and turn to look, and when I turn back, the room is gone, and I'm outside. It's nighttime, and suddenly I can feel the darkspawn all around me. They're coming for me, and I run... and eventually I wake up."

"If you're dreaming about darkspawn..." Jessimyn said.

She heard Alistair laugh softly, and she tilted her head up to look at him. He ran a finger over her cheek. "If our roles here were reversed, I'm not sure the darkspawn part of the dream is the one I would have focused on first."

She raised her eyebrows. "Would you prefer to talk about Morrigan, then?"

Alistair blanched. "What? No... maybe you're right. Darkspawn are better."

Jessimyn gave him a smile. "You know, you don't have to pretend for my sake that it was the worst night of your life. Morrigan was a beautiful woman, after all. Besides, considering the fact that I practically forced you into the situation, I think I'd prefer that you at least enjoyed yourself at the time."

It was his turn to pull away, but Jessimyn made no move to stop him, instead pulling the sheet more tightly around her body. "I am glad to have gone through with it, simply because that's the only reason we're here together now. Had I not, one of us would be gone, and that..." He shook his head. "I know she was your friend, and maybe outwardly she was pretty, but..." Alistair looked at her. "She mocked my grief over Duncan's death, and she did it just to be mean, knowing how much pain I was in, knowing what the man meant to me. I could never forgive her for that, and because of that, she was ugly in my eyes."

Jessimyn just looked at him. It had been clear enough that Alistair and Morrigan had never really gotten along, but she'd never really thought to ask why. She had just done her best to keep the two of them from each others' throats. "I... never realized... I should have..."

The distance between them closed again as Alistair moved back to her. "No, I... meant what I said. As much as I despised the woman, if I had to go back and do it again, I would, just so that we could be where we are today." He gave her a lopsided grin. "So I guess the answer to your original question is yes, I _am _having nightmares, but since the darkspawn aren't the scariest parts of them, I don't think they're _the _nightmares." He rubbed his hands up her sides. "Come on, let's go back inside."

Once they were back in bed, as they were both starting to drift back to sleep, Jessimyn's eyes opened. "Alistair," she said.

"Hmm..." He murmured.

She touched his face, and he opened his eyes. "The dreams..." She began, and he groaned.

"I really don't want to talk about them," he said.

"I'm just wondering... are they like the ones you used to have?" She asked, and Alistair gave her a confused look. "It's been years ago, before Ned was born. Right after I'd gone to Amaranthine, I think. You told me about them when I was passing through, on the way south to investigate reports of darkspawn attacking villagers and travelers."

Alistair frowned. "Maybe," he conceded. "There are some... similarities, I suppose." He shook his head. "And maybe they're just dreams."

Jessimyn smiled at him. "Maybe they just mean you're dreading this wedding as much as I am," she teased, but the look he gave back to her was hurt, and she regretted her words.

"Is the thought of being married to me really so awful?" He asked, his voice soft. "If you agreed to my proposal just to placate me... I wish you wouldn't have."

"You know that's not it," she said. "The idea of being your wife is quite pleasing, but there's more to it than that."

"I'm the king," Alistair stated. "Anyone I marry will be queen. That's... how these things work."

Jessimyn touched his face. "I know. It's just... couldn't we find a priest to marry us in some private ceremony, just the two of us? Well, just the three of us, since I'd want Ned there, of course."

He leaned forward to place a light kiss on her lips. "You would really wish to start your reign as queen by angering all of the nobles in Ferelden because you didn't invite them to the wedding?" He asked, smiling a little. "That's not a move I would personally advise."

"Fine," she said. "I guess we'll just... continue on as we've been going."

"A wise decision," Alistair said, kissing her again. Then he grinned. "Now be quiet, so I can sleep."

However, sleep did not come easily for either of them over the next few days. Alistair's dreams continued, and Jessimyn was often awakened by his cries, or by him thrashing about. While the idea that he was dreaming every night of being with another woman was not particularly pleasing to her, it might not have bothered her so much if the dreams changed, but they did not. Every time he woke up from one, she would ask him what it was about, and it was always the same. He saw himself with Morrigan, and then he was outside, running from darkspawn. She didn't know what it was supposed to mean, if it even meant anything, but she had a hard time believing they were just dreams.

But when a group of Grey Wardens showed up in Denerim a few weeks after Alistair's first dream, neither of them were quite sure what to think. Years before, when Alistair had started having strange dreams, it had coincided with an increase in darkspawn activity in the south. Once again, the Wardens were sending a group south because there were new reports of attacks. None of the men in the group were anyone she knew very well, even with her yearly trips to Amaranthine. She realized just how out of touch she'd become with the Grey Wardens, despite the work she still did at the compound in Denerim. Still, they had agreed to send copies of all their reports to her there as well as to Amaranthine.

The winter seemed to drag by. The plans for the wedding were finalized, but Jessimyn saw to little enough of that, happy to let Leliana and Maura take charge, though sometimes she wondered if that wouldn't come back to bite her later. Each morning she would go to check if a message had arrived from the Grey Wardens, but there was nothing. However, about a month before the wedding was to take place, Alistair's dreams just seemed to stop, as they had done so many years before. A week before the wedding, with the palace filled with nobles from all over Ferelden, Jessimyn finally received a letter. It had been sent by bird, a tiny scrap of a note.

_Large group of darkspawn in the Hinterlands. A roving band of some sort, which has been attacking small groups of people and single farmhouses. Has been dealt with._

The brevity of the letter frustrated her, but there was little that could be done about that. Assuming there were no other immediate threats, and she hoped they would have mentioned something had there been any, the men should be back through Denerim within a few months, depending on where they were when they sent the letter.

"So... are we to believe that this is all just a coincidence?" Alistair asked her that night, after she'd shown him the letter. "Or are these dreams I've had somehow related..." He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense to think that they could possibly _be_ related, but..."

"I know," Jessimyn said. "The timing is just too perfect to be just some crazy, random happenstance, but you're right, it doesn't make any sense why you'd be having dreams and not me, or anyone else."

They were sitting together on his couch, after a long day of meetings with various nobles, as well as some last minute fittings for their clothing. Once people had begun arriving at the palace, which had started weeks earlier, the only time they seemed to have any peace, or any chance to be alone, was late at night.

"Do you wish you were there with them?" Alistair asked, his eyes still on the note in his hand.

Jessimyn shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe a little. In reality, it's almost like I wish I could be both places, both here and down south. But as I can only be in one place at a time, I know I'm where I want to be most." He gave her a look, and she laughed softly. "It's true, though I'm sure I will sound much more convincing in about a month, once the wedding and the coronation are over and everyone has gone home." Alistair grinned at her, and it was her turn to give him a look. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, still smiling at her. "Just thinking that, in a little over a week, you'll be my wife. My queen."

Jessimyn groaned softly, though she couldn't help but smile a little herself. "You know, you're almost nauseating when you're this happy."

He chuckled softly. "Well, if anyone could make me nauseatingly happy, it would be you."

While the winter and most of the spring had dragged by, that last week before the wedding seemed to fly, and before she knew it she was being dragged from her bed by Leliana and Maura to get ready for the ceremony. She felt a little numb as they dressed her and did her hair. The dress Maura had made had an asymmetrical neckline, as many of her dresses did, cut so as to hide the scars on her left shoulder while baring her right. Leliana fixed her hair so as to help obscure the scars along her chin. Jessimyn had gotten so used to them, as she had with all her scars, that she never really thought about them anymore, but as she looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit they were barely even visible. The only jewelry she wore were the pieces Alistair had given her, although Leliana wove some tiny pearls into her hair.

Shortly before they finished with Jessimyn, Ellynedra let herself into her room, and she sat at her side, holding her hand as Leliana and Maura made their final adjustments to her. Jessimyn regarded the girl who would soon be her daughter, amazed at how much she'd grown and changed over the years she had known her. Ellynedra was almost twelve, and she was starting to look more like a young woman than a little girl. With a pang, Jessimyn wondered if she and Alistair would get the chance to see _her _wedding day. It was unlikely either of them would get to see Ellynedra have children of her own, and the thought made Jessimyn ache, knowing that they would have to miss out on so much of her life, once their Callings came.

"What's wrong?" Ellynedra asked her. "You look sad all of a sudden."

Jessimyn shook her head, giving her a smile. "I'm not sad, Ned," she said. "I'm glad you're here with me."

Ellynedra smiled back. "Me, too."

And then it was time. Ellynedra left to go take her seat at the front of the hall, but Leliana and Maura stayed with Jessimyn to escort her. The walk through the corridors seemed to take forever, and every servant they passed gave her a low, deep bow. But once she got to the doors, and she saw Alistair, everything else seemed to melt away. They stood together before the Revered Mother, all the nobles of Ferelden filling the hall, yet she didn't seem to notice anything but him. She repeated the words she was supposed to say, and before she knew it, it was over, and they were married. Strange. She didn't feel any different.

Then came the part she normally hated, the part when they had to greet all of their guests as the newly married pair, but that too seemed to fly by faster than she would have thought. Later Alistair told her how charming she had been, but she wouldn't really remember any of it. At the feast, she was given the queen's seat, though she was not yet actually the queen. At the ball, she danced with no one but Alistair. It could have been seen as insulting to their guests, but neither of them really seemed to care. When she talked to Leliana about it days later, the bard assured her that all of the comments she'd heard were about how romantic it seemed, about how obvious it was that the king loved his new wife. Jessimyn was sure Leliana was exaggerating.

It was very late that night before they finally made it back to their rooms. How strange, that she had so easily switched from thinking of it as _Alistair's_ rooms to _their_ rooms. The door had no sooner shut behind them than he pulled her into his arms. "Have I told you today how beautiful you are?" He asked, his hands moving up and down over her back.

She put her hands low on his waist. "Maybe once or twice," Jessimyn said before kissing him.

"Hmm... and have I told you that I love you?" Alistair asked, his fingers finding her neck and the bare skin at her shoulder.

"You may have mentioned it," she whispered. "I love you, too."

His fingers moved down to her back again to begin pulling at all of the tiny buttons that ran in a row down her spine. "Now comes the part you've been dreading the most," he said in a deep, quiet voice. "I'm afraid we are now required to consummate our marriage." He gave her a crooked smile. "I've heard it can be a little painful, for a woman's first time. I'd like to tell you that I'll be gentle, but..." He gave the back of her dress a sharp tug, and she heard numerous buttons popping off. "...I can't promise anything."

"Alistair!"

He grinned at her. "What? It's not like you're going to wear the dress again, are you?" He didn't wait for an answer, pushing the dress down her body as far as he was able, so that her breasts were bared. He leaned down, taking a nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make her cry out in pleasure rather than pain. Alistair's hands made short work of the rest of the buttons on her dress, removing enough of them that the back of the dress was open past her hips, and he pushed it down to pool at her feet. Once her dress was off, he straightened to begin removing his own things. "I only have one rule for tonight," he said as he tossed his shirt aside and began unlacing his breeches. Jessimyn raised her eyebrows at that. "The bed is off limits, except for actual sleeping."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. Alistair kicked his breeches away, and then he sat down on the couch, pulling her into his lap. As she straddled him, he buried his fingers in her hair, dislodging many of the pins that had been arranged so carefully to keep her hair in place. They moved together, and as their movements picked up in speed, she felt the heat in her body rising. As her climax neared, Alistair bit down on her shoulder. She gasped, but then her whole body was shuddering against him, and she raked her fingernails down his back. When she had calmed, he grinned at her.

"I did warn you I couldn't promise to be gentle," he said.

The sun was just starting to peek up over the horizon before they finally fell into bed, exhausted. The few days between the wedding and Jessimyn's coronation were spent in private, and they never even had to leave their room. Per Alistair's instructions, food was brought and left for them in the queen's rooms... in the rooms that would now be Jessimyn's, so that there would be no risk of any sort of unwanted interruptions. But the day of the coronation arrived quickly enough, and they had to once again go out in public.

The hall was just as full for the coronation as it had been for the wedding, though Jessimyn hadn't really been expecting anything different. Alistair and the Revered Mother stood on the dais, and Jessimyn went up to kneel in front of him. As the woman spoke, Alistair placed the crown on her head, and with that, she became a queen as well as a wife.


	117. Alistair Chapter 117

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for the choppiness of this chapter. Transitional chapters don't seem to flow quite as well as I would like._

After the wedding and the coronation were over, things went strangely back to normal. Alistair watched Jessimyn closely, wondering if she was going to find everything to be too much to handle, but she dealt with things surprisingly well. Shortly after the coronation, before all of the nobles had even left, they began moving her things from her old room to the queen's rooms. That had seemed to agitate her a little, but he had reminded her that it wasn't really going to change her sleeping or living arrangements. He knew she wouldn't spend much more time in the queen's rooms than she ever had in her old rooms.

She _did _complain about having to wear dresses again, much to Alistair's amusement. In the time between Maura's arrival and the wedding, the woman had been working on building up Jessimyn's wardrobe. She had been very specific about only wanting things that she could get herself into without needing someone to dress her, but Alistair had finally convinced her to take a personal servant. She hadn't liked that anymore than the dresses, but they both knew she couldn't always depend on Leliana being there to help her get ready for any public appearances.

Jenya and her children stayed in Denerim longer than the other nobles, which seemed to be a comfort to Jessimyn. However, Alistair began to notice the way Ellynedra seemed to watch Bryce, and it made him a little uncomfortable. His daughter was growing up, he knew, and at almost twelve, it was really just a matter of time before she started noticing boys, but he had hoped she would wait a few years. It didn't help that Bryce was sixteen, or that Jessimyn teased him about his daughter's crush. He was all too eager for them to leave when they finally decided to go back to Highever.

A week after Jenya and her children left, the group of Grey Wardens came back through Denerim. Jessimyn met with them at the compound, irritated that she had to be followed by a few guards as she went through the city. Alistair didn't really like that she hadn't asked them to come to the palace, so they could both meet with them, but he let it go. He wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to stay in charge of things at the compound, and he wanted to let her try for as long as possible. When she returned, she seemed worried.

"What did they tell you?" He asked her that night, after Ellynedra had gone to bed.

"It sounded a lot like things were years ago, the last time I was down there," she said. "There were attacks on farmhouses and travelers. They managed to track the group of darkspawn, but the group almost seemed to be tracking something themselves." She looked at him. "And we pretty much already knew this, but they found and killed the darkspawn at almost exactly the same time that your dreams stopped."

They sat in silence for a while. "What do you think it means?" He asked her.

Jessimyn sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know. Why would you be having dreams tied to what happens in the south? And why now? There have been other reports of activity before. Remember when we met Jandin on the road, coming back from Redcliffe? You weren't having dreams then... or were you?"

"No," Alistair said. "Not since... Maker, I don't know how long it's been. Thirteen, fourteen years? You're right, there have been other reports of darkspawn movement between then and now." He shrugged. "But what can we do?" He placed his hand over hers. "As much as either of us may wish to, we can't go down there to investigate things ourselves."

"I know," she said, and she sounded disappointed.

There were no other dreams, no other groups of Grey Wardens passing through, the rest of that year, but the following spring, the dreams came back. It was almost exactly a year after they had started before. The dreams were similar to the ones he'd had before, where he was being chased by groups of darkspawn, but at least there was no sex. That had really been the most disturbing part of the dreams. As necessary as the night spent with Morrigan might have been, it was not something he had ever wanted to think about again. He certainly had never wanted to have to relive the night over and over again in his dreams. And once again, a few weeks after the dreams began, they got word of more darkspawn activity in the Southron Hills, and a week or two after that, a group of Grey Wardens passed through Denerim.

That pattern seemed to repeat itself in the spring for the next couple years. Once the weather started warming up, Alistair would start having dreams, and they would continue until whatever current darkspawn threat was dealt with. It was always very distressing to them both, but there was nothing either he or Jessimyn could do about it. Even if they had been able to travel with the other Wardens, there was no guarantee either of them could do anything that the others weren't already doing. The only comforting thing was that the dreams never got worse, and they always stopped after a month or two.

The year Ellynedra was to turn fifteen, Alistair waited all spring for the dreams to start again, but they didn't. As spring turned to summer, he began to hope that perhaps they were gone for good, and sure enough, there were no new reports of darkspawn activity anywhere in Ferelden. Jessimyn still fretted over them, reminding him that they could still return at some point, pointing out that they still didn't know what was causing them, but Alistair was all too happy to simply ignore them, especially since they were gone.

"What good is worrying about it?" Alistair asked her as they made their way back from court to their rooms. There had been a number of petitions that day from some small villages in the Hinterlands, which had been hit particularly hard the year before. The previous year's dreams had been the worst of all as well, and they had lasted well into the summer before the Grey Wardens were able to track down the groups of darkspawn that had been terrorizing the villagers. The petitioners had only served to remind Jessimyn of the dreams Alistair had been trying to get her to forget.

Jessimyn sighed, reaching up to adjust the crown on her head. Even after three years, she seemed uncomfortable with it and only wore it when absolutely necessary. "I know there's nothing we can do about it," she conceded. "And I don't wish to rehash old conversations that don't ever actually get us anywhere." She looked at him, taking his hand in hers. "But it... brings up something else I think we've both been hesitant to talk about."

They had made it to their rooms and went inside. Jessimyn went immediately to the bedchamber, pulling the pins from her hair that helped keep the crown in place. Alistair just stood at the doorway, watching as she placed the crown into its box. "And what is this _something else_, then?" He asked.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and he went over to sit next to her. "Maybe _these _dreams are gone, but there will be others. Soon we will both start having nightmares again, and..."

Alistair stood back up, going to the doors that led to the balcony. "There's still plenty of time before that happens," he said irritably before going outside.

Jessimyn followed him, as he knew she would. "Seven or eight years, if we're lucky," she said as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning her head against his back. "But it could be as little as five. Alistair... I know you don't want to talk about it. But we need to."

"Why?" He asked, turning around to face her. "Yes, inevitably it will happen, but that's years off."

"You know why," she said, placing her hands on his chest. "We need to tell Ned. This is not something we can spring on her in the final hour. She deserves to have time to come to grips with the fact that she will be queen sooner than she would probably like, that..."

"No," Alistair said. "I've told you before that it's not time for that yet. She's still... she's too..."

"Alistair," she said, touching his face. "She's not too young anymore. She's going to be fifteen. She's a woman now, no matter how much you want her to stay a little girl. Ned has a right to know."

He sighed, pressing his cheek against her hair. "And what will we be taking from her, if we tell her this now? Soon enough, there will come a time when we won't be able to go to sleep without the worry that _that _night will be the night they return. Why should she have to share in our worry?"

"Because she's going to be queen," Jessimyn said. "And we won't always be there to protect her. We can't just shield her from everything, only to turn around and leave her."

"I don't _want_ to leave her," Alistair said as he pulled Jessimyn closer to him, trying to will away the emotions that were building inside him. "How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to just... walk way, and leave her here to fend for herself? How am I supposed to just go, knowing that I'm going to miss out on so much of her life? That _we _will miss out. I want to be there to see everything. I want to see her fall in love and marry. I want to see our grandchildren." He closed his eyes. "It's silly, but I have this image in my mind of you sitting next to Nedda while she holds her first child. I want to see that. I want us both to be here for that, and... I guess I don't want Nedda to have to worry that we won't be."

They just held each other for a while, and Alistair was grateful that Jessimyn didn't point out the obvious, that there was a good chance they _wouldn't _be there for all of that. She didn't have to say it. He knew it, and it caused an ache in his chest that brought tears to his eyes. When he finally pulled back, he saw that Jessimyn had tears in her eyes as well. "Looks like we're getting very weepy in our old age," he said with a smile as he brushed at her cheeks with a thumb.

The subject was dropped after that, at least for a while, though it was not forgotten. Without really speaking of it, they both seemed to increase their efforts to expose Ellynedra to as much of the workings of the kingdom as possible. She would often accompany them when they held court, but Alistair made it mandatory for her. He made her go along with them to their other various meetings, often questioning her afterward about the things she had observed. Ellynedra had complained a little at first, but she'd gotten used to the idea quickly enough. She had a sharp mind, and sometimes she even picked up on things that neither he nor Jessimyn noticed.

And so the years passed. As Ellynedra got older, Alistair once again found himself surrounded by nobles trying to get into his favor. Only this time, instead of pressing him about their daughters or sisters, they were pressing him about their sons, why this young man or that would make a suitable choice for the princess. He was surprised by how many of them were shocked at the idea that Alistair intended to let Ellynedra choose her own husband, though he was in no hurry for that to happen.

The winter after Ellynedra's seventeenth birthday, Wulff grew very ill and eventually passed away. The princess was distraught over the death of her grandfather, and the three of them made the journey from Denerim to Gwaren to pay their respects. They were not the only ones, and the castle in Gwaren was filled with family members and friends. Jenya, her father, her brother, and all of their families had made the trip as well, and when it was finally time to return to Denerim, Jenya traveled with them. Jandin had made the trip with her, which seemed to please Jessimyn quite a bit. She was convinced that the two of them had married in some secret ceremony, but that they told no one because they knew her father wouldn't approve. It all seemed rather silly to him, but he was not one to begrudge anyone else their happiness. However, he also noticed how close Ellynedra and Bryce seemed to be, as they traveled back to Denerim, and he was less than enthusiastic about that, especially when he caught them holding hands.

"But... they're cousins," Alistair said to Jessimyn the night after he'd seen them together. They had stopped for the night, and the two of them were walking together in the woods near the Imperial Highway, happy to have even a short moment of privacy.

Jessimyn laughed. "Yes, but... they're not _really _cousins," she said, and he just gave her a confused look. "Didn't you ever ask Lyrina about how exactly she was related to Jenya?" She asked.

"No," said Alistair. "Why should I? They said they were cousins, and..."

"Cousins, yes, but in the way that noble families are said to be cousins," Jessimyn explained. "Most noble families are related to one another in some way, if you go back far enough. Jenya and Lyrina's families are related, yes, but you would probably have to go back... Maker, I don't know how far. They just refer to each other as cousins because their families have always been close, but they are likely no more closely related to each other than they are to me... or to you, for that matter."

"Well... I still don't like it," Alistair said, and Jessimyn smiled, placing a hand on his chest to stop their stroll.

"Is that the reason you don't like it? Or is it because of something else?" She asked in a teasing voice, and Alistair grumbled at her.

"I'm her father," he said. "Am I supposed to like it when she's... being like that with some boy?"

"It's not just some boy," Jessimyn replied. "Or... is that the problem? Is it because it's Bryce?"

Alistair shook his head. "No. I don't care that he's Fergus' son anymore than I care that you're Fergus' sister. You should know that." He ran a finger down the side of her face. "I just..."

"I know," she said. "You're a father. It's how you're supposed to act. I remember how my father was, when he found out that I..."

"Oh, Maker," Alistair said, cutting her off. "You don't think she... that they... together?"

Jessimyn grinned. "Afraid her morals are as loose as mine?" She asked, and Alistair groaned. "But no, I'm fairly certain they haven't been intimate with each other," she said, and Alistair groaned again. "The last time I talked to her about it, they had only just kissed for the first time."

Alistair peered at her. "You've... talked to her about it? About him?"

"About everything, yes," Jessimyn said. "But she's quite smitten with him. And from what Jenya has said, the feeling is mutual."

"So everyone has known about this but me?" Alistair asked with a scowl.

Jessimyn laughed, giving him a quick kiss. "Of course. You're the father, remember?"

Alistair wrapped his arms around her. "Hmm... Well... I think I'd rather be the husband right now," he murmured before giving her a much more thorough kiss than she'd given him. She ran her fingers up through his hair, and Alistair pressed his body against hers. As his hands began moving down her back, he heard a sound, and they pulled themselves apart just in time to see Ellynedra and Bryce come stumbling through the trees, laughing with each other. When the younger couple spied them, they froze in place. They had been holding hands, but they quickly moved away from each other.

"Nedda," Alistair said, though he was eying the man at her side. "Bryce."

"Your Majesties," Bryce said, a nervous look on his face.

Alistair was about to say something, but Jessimyn pulled on his arm, leading them back towards the camp. "Don't stay out here too long," she called to Ellynedra and Bryce over her shoulder as she pulled Alistair along. "It's starting to get dark."

"You think that's wise?" He said, his voice almost a hiss, as they moved out of earshot of the children. "You're just going to..." He looked over his shoulder. He couldn't see his daughter anymore, but he heard her giggle pass through the trees, and he started to go back towards them.

Jessimyn gave his arm a jerk. "Alistair," she said, laughing at him. "Leave them be. They can't get into any real trouble out there."

"Really?" Alistair asked in a flat voice. "Because I remember... getting into trouble with _you _in a setting just like that."

"Yes, but that was different," she said.

Once they were back at camp, Alistair paid attention to little but the woods around them, watching for his daughter to return. She and Bryce reappeared after only a few minutes, much to his relief, although they were holding hands once again, which he didn't like so much. Jessimyn must have seen him scowl because she leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Come now," she said. "Look at how happy they look. It's sweet. Besides, you and I weren't much younger than they are now, when we met."

Alistair watched the two of them closely the rest of the trip back to Denerim. Things seemed innocent enough between them, and whenever they did seem to disappear in the evenings, they were never gone long enough for him to really worry about what they'd been doing. However, whenever Jessimyn caught him staring off into the woods after them, she would tease him and try to distract him. When they finally got to Denerim, he noticed how painful it seemed to be for Ellynedra and Bryce to part, and he softened a little towards the idea of them together. It wasn't easy, though.

The following year, after Ellynedra's eighteenth birthday, Alistair and Jessimyn finally sat down with her to tell her about their unavoidable fate. He hadn't wanted to, but Jessimyn had been pressing him, and Alistair knew they couldn't keep the information from her for much longer. Time was growing shorter. They spent a long evening discussing it, crying together, until the princess had finally come to a fragile acceptance of the facts, though it was obvious she wanted to fight against them.

"How long?" She asked them, her voice still shaking from the news.

"Three years," Alistair answered, his own voice just as shaken as hers. "Maybe four. Maybe only two."

"I don't want you to leave," Ellynedra protested, a new wave of tears falling from her eyes. "I don't want you to... die. What am I supposed to do?" She began to grow frantic. "I can't... I can't be queen, not so soon. I thought I'd have years, I thought that you would both..." Her sobs prevented further speech, and she buried her head against his chest.

Alistair tried to soothe her, putting an arm around Jessimyn to pull her closer as well. "You'll make a fine queen," he told her, his voice gruff, but that only seemed to make her cry more.

When the tears finally slowed, Ellynedra lifted her head, looking at them both in turn. "But when it happens, when this _Calling _happens... it will happen to both of you? At the same time?"

"Likely," Jessimyn told her. "We became Grey Wardens only six months apart from each other."

"At least..." Ellynedra brushed the dampness from her cheeks. "At least you won't have to be alone, I guess," she offered.

The next few months were somber, as Ellynedra adjusted to the idea that her parents wouldn't be with her for years to come. At first, she spent as much time with both of them as possible, as if she might just turn around one day to find them gone, but as time passed, things went back to normal again. Alistair wasn't sure if he was happy about that or not. As much as he didn't want to dwell on their eventual leaving, each day that passed was another day closer to the inevitable.

At the Landsmeet that winter, Ellynedra seemed to be permanently attached to Bryce's side, much to the man's obvious pleasure. She brought him around each evening for their family dinners, when there wasn't a more formal affair going on. Sometimes Jenya and Lyla were there as well, but often it was just the four of them. Alistair grudgingly realized that he actually liked Bryce, and he could tell that Jessimyn had been right in her appraisal of his daughter's feelings. Ellynedra was obviously smitten with him. But it was actually Leliana who made him realize the extent.

They were dancing together, at the ball that took place every year following the Landsmeet. "It's quite romantic, don't you think?" She asked him, gesturing to his daughter, who seemed to dance with no one but Bryce. Alistair just looked at her, and Leliana giggled, a habit she never outgrew. "Oh, but it _is _romantic. Look at how he looks at her," she said. "It's the same way you look at Jess. Like she's his whole world."

So it was of little surprise when Bryce stayed in Denerim, even after Jenya and Lyla had gone back to Highever. It bothered him a little, knowing the man was in the palace, knowing that he couldn't watch Bryce and Ellynedra at all times, especially considering how much time the two of them seemed to spend together. However, it was even less of a surprise when Bryce sought him out one evening, asking for a private audience with him.

"Your Majesty," Bryce said, standing in front of him in one of Alistair's more formal sitting rooms. He seemed terribly nervous, clutching his hands together. "I... want you to know that I love your daughter very much. I... can't imagine my life without her, and I... would ask your permission, to ask her to marry me." The last few words came out in almost a whisper.

"Be at ease, Bryce," Alistair said, gesturing to a chair near him. "Have a drink," he offered, pouring himself one, then offering the second to Bryce. Once the boy was seated, drink in hand, Alistair continued. "I'll admit I have my... reservations. Not about your feelings for each other, mind you. Those seem quite clear to me. It's just... Nedda is only eighteen. She's still so young."

"I... yes, I know, Your Majesty," Bryce offered. "I know this might seem hasty. It's just that I... feel so strongly for her, and I... don't want to wait." A faint blush crept up into his cheeks.

"Well... I can understand that feeling," Alistair replied. "You have my permission to ask, but it is up to her to provide the answer, of course." Bryce gaped at him, probably surprised that Alistair had agreed so quickly. But if Ellynedra was sure, what _was _the point in her waiting? Maybe it was selfish of him, but Alistair knew he would like to see her married before he had to leave her.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Bryce said, jumping up from his seat as if he was going to go ask her right then. "I..."

"Bryce?" Alistair said, smiling faintly.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"If you're going to marry my daughter, I think it's probably more than appropriate for you to call me Alistair," he said, and Bryce practically beamed at him.

The princess' betrothal was announced within the month, with the wedding set for a year later, in the following winter. However, in the fall of that year, Alistair started having dreams again. They were so similar to the ones he'd had before that he thought nothing of them... until Jessimyn started having them, too.


	118. Jessimyn Chapter 118

The wedding was everything Jessimyn had expected it to be. Ellynedra was beautiful, and as she stood atop the dais with Bryce, Jessimyn could feel the tears leaking from her eyes. When she glanced over at Jenya, she saw that she was not the only person so affected. In fact, with as tightly as Alistair was gripping her hand, she knew that he was having a similar reaction to the ceremony. Or perhaps it was more than just the wedding that had him feeling emotional. She knew that was the case for her.

Over the past couple months, her dreams had only gotten worse. Alistair tried to convince her the dreams were no different from the ones he'd been having, but they both knew that wasn't the case. The nightmares were too much like the ones Berton used to describe to her, and Jessimyn knew her Calling had come. It didn't seem fair. She should have had almost three years left. She had always assumed it would happen to Alistair first, that she would have had some warning, but that didn't seem to be how it was going to work out.

There had been no question that nothing was going to be done, nothing was going to be decided, about leaving until after the wedding. Alistair had refused to even speak of it, but that was just as well. Neither of them had wanted to discuss it, perhaps hoping that her nightmares would just disappear, as Alistair's had only a few weeks earlier. As his always did. Jessimyn's, on the other hand, only seemed to get worse with each passing day. It had become almost a nightly thing, to wake up screaming. At least Alistair was there, and he would hold her until she calmed, until she was able to fall back to sleep. Though she would never mention it to Alistair, Jessimyn often found herself thinking about Berton, thinking that she was glad she had been able to be there for him when his time came. The idea that anyone might have to go through the nightmares alone was not a pleasant thought.

An unhappy side-effect of the nightmares was Jessimyn's constant weariness. She often woke up in the mornings feeling like she hadn't slept at all. As the evening wore on, long after the ceremony and the feast were over, and the ball was well under way, Jessimyn excused herself. Ellynedra and Bryce had long since crept from the hall, off to finally spend their first night together, but the rest of the nobles seemed to have no intention of leaving so soon. She insisted that Alistair stay, and after he finally reluctantly agreed, she gave him a quick kiss before leaving for their rooms. On the way there, she stopped a servant, asking that a bath be filled for her in the queen's rooms. It seemed to take longer than she would have liked, but when the tub was finally full and the last of the servants had gone, she removed her dress and sank into the warm water.

The heat only seemed to make her even more weary, and she knew she could likely fall asleep there if she let herself. But it was never the falling asleep part that caused difficulties. It was staying asleep. When the water had cooled to the point where it was no longer satisfying to soak, she pulled herself from the tub, wrapped a robe around her body, and crossed the tiny hallway into the king's rooms. The bed pulled at her, but Jessimyn ignored it for the moment, instead sitting at her dressing table. She picked up her comb and began pulling it through her wet hair when she caught her reflection in the mirror in front of her.

With a start, Jessimyn realized it could almost be her mother's face staring back at her. The comb stilled in her hand, and she couldn't help but wonder when she had gotten so old. Almost moving of its own accord, her hand moved the comb, parting her hair down the middle before setting it aside. She then split her hair into two sides, braiding each section before coiling both braids into buns at the base of her neck. It was how her mother had always worn her hair, for as long as she could remember, and as she turned her face, she realized that her reflection looked even less like her own and more like someone who had been dead for nearly thirty years.

The tears came then, unbidden and almost surprising as the fell from her eyes. Jessimyn was overwhelmed by the feelings she had first felt that night in Highever, when her parents were left behind to be slaughtered by Rendon Howe as she fled with Duncan. In that one night she had lost both her parents, and she was supposed to just resign Ellynedra to the same fate? She and Alistair had both always assumed that they would return to the Deep Roads at the same time, but that was assuming their nightmares would return at the same time as well. What if he still had years left, years that he could spend with his daughter and her new husband, years in which he might be able to hold his first grandchild? Who was she to take that from him, to ask him to give that up?

She was still sitting at the dressing table, face buried in her hands, when Alistair returned. He was loud and laughing as he came through the door, but he stopped when he saw her. "Jess, what is it? What's wrong?"

She desperately wiped at her face, embarrassed that she was in such a state for him to see. "Nothing. I'm fine," she said, standing up to give him a forced smile. "Did you have a nice time?"

Alistair went to her. "As well as could be had without you there for most of it," he said, giving her a concerned look. His fingers trailed down her cheek. "Why were you crying?"

Jessimyn just shook her head. "I'm just... tired, I guess."

The look he gave her was one of disbelief, but Alistair didn't press it. "I actually thought I might find you asleep when I got back," he said. "But instead, you've apparently decided to try out new hairstyles?"

Her hand lifted to touch the coiled braids at her nape. "I just noticed how much I've come to look like my mother, as I last remember her. This is how she always wore her hair. I guess I just wanted to..." She shrugged.

He smiled, running his fingers over the braids. "I remember seeing a portrait of your family one time in Highever, remember thinking that your mother was quite a striking woman. I suppose you do look a bit like her," he said. "Although, right now, what you look like most of all is exhausted." With a gesture to the bed, he added. "Shall we?"

Jessimyn nodded and removed her robe, taking a moment to uncoil her hair before crawling into bed while Alistair undressed. But once the lamps were extinguished and he had settled in next to her, cradling her in his arms, the tears returned. She tried to hide them as best as she could, but when her body gave an involuntary shudder, Alistair sat up, rolling her onto her back to look at her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked again. "Talk to me."

"Ned's the same age I was when I lost my parents," she whispered, and Alistair went very still next to her. "All these years have passed, yet I still... feel it. At least Ned has Bryce, which is more than I had at the time, but still... how can I do that to her?"

"Do what?" Alistair asked.

"Take both her parents away," she said.

Alistair ran his fingers through her hair. "You're not doing anything to her. The inevitability of what's going to happen was decided years ago, Jess. We can't stop it. You know that."

"I know... that I have to go, but..."

"Jess," he said, cutting her off, but she spoke over him.

"But you don't. No, Alistair. Listen. You don't have to go with me. You could... stay. Why should Ned have to lose her father if she doesn't have to? Why should you leave your daughter before it's your time?" Jessimyn sighed softly. "I know what we agreed upon, years ago, but... we didn't know things would be like this, didn't know my nightmares would return so early."

"Stop," he said, and his voice sound pained.

"You could have years still," Jessimyn continued. "You could give Ned a few more years with at least one of her parents. You could..."

"Jess, stop," Alistair commanded. "Don't." His arms tightened almost painfully around her, and his voice shook as he spoke. "Maybe it's not... time for me yet, but it will be soon enough. What am I supposed to do? Let you go alone? And then, in a year or two when my own Calling comes, you would have me make the journey by myself as well?"

"But..."

"No," Alistair said, his voice beginning to sound angry. "We're not talking about this." He let out a sigh and kissed her forehead. "Just... let's try to sleep."

But ignoring the problem didn't make it go away, and after another couple weeks of waking up almost every night, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding in her chest, Jessimyn knew she could put off leaving no longer. After one such night, when her dreams had not awakened Alistair along with her, she climbed from bed, wrapping a thick robe around her before stepping out onto the balcony. The garden below was covered in a thin layer of snow, and her breath misted before her face, but the fresh air helped calm her for some reason. The stone was cold beneath her bare feet, and she could stay outside for only a short while before she scurried back indoors. When she crawled back into bed, Alistair mumbled something in his sleep, rolling over to put an arm around her.

"You're cold," he muttered softly. "Why're you cold?" When she didn't respond, he opened his eyes. "Jess, why are you... Agghhh... Maker, your feet are freezing."

"I was outside," she said.

Alistair reached up to brush a hair from her face. "Bad dreams again?"

"They're not just dreams," she said softly. "And we both know it. Alistair... I can't put this off any longer. I... It's time."

"When?" He finally asked, after a long pause.

"Soon," she said. "As soon as the snows melt, I think." He let out a long sigh. "Alistair, you don't have to go with..."

He cut off her words with a kiss. "Don't ask me to stay," he said.

"Because you want to?" She asked, and he sighed again.

"Yes," he admitted after a moment. "Yes, I want to stay. I want us _both _to stay, but... it doesn't matter. I'm not... you're not going alone. And I don't think Nedda would want me to stay, if it meant that you would be alone when..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "So I guess... we have some things to put in order."

Strangely enough, one of the most difficult things they had to decide was how they were going to announce to all of Ferelden that Alistair was abdicating his throne. Did they call a Landsmeet, so soon after all of the nobles had just been in Denerim? Did they simply send out a proclamation? And what reason would they give? No other monarch in Ferelden's history had ever abdicated, and they didn't want to leave in a way that would cause Ellynedra trouble. While it might seem easy to simply make up an excuse, a lie about a sudden illness or injury, they knew that such a lie would have to be maintained by Ellynedra, and neither of them wanted that. In the end, they decided to send an announcement throughout the land, declaring that the two of them had pressing Grey Warden matters to deal with, and that Ellynedra was to be named Queen Regent in their absence.

There were a few moments when Jessimyn considered leaving without Alistair, but all for reasons for doing so, all her supposed nobility and selflessness, were really just pretense. She didn't want to go alone. So she waited, and soon enough the day came for them to go. They had spent a tear-filled night with Ellynedra the previous evening. Jessimyn had given her the jewelry that Alistair gave her when he proposed and told her that Ellynedra would need to have a daughter so that someday she could pass it on as well. She felt somewhat naked without it, but it didn't seem right to take it with her when they went. Jessimyn and Alistair were very somber as they dressed the next morning, both dressing in their armor once they had eaten a quick breakfast. Unlike other trips they had taken, there was no crowd or fanfare to see them off. As they strode through the halls of the palace to the front gates, everyone they passed seemed to eye them nervously. No one really knew what to think of their leaving, but it hardly mattered what anyone thought, other than the three people waiting for them at the gates.

Ellynedra and Bryce stood together, and it was clear his support was the only reason she remained upright. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she did nothing to try and hide the tears streaming down her face. Their announcement might have been vague, perhaps leading the people of Ferelden to believe that someday they would be returning, but Ellynedra knew better. She knew this was goodbye, that she would never see either of them again. Leliana was there, too, but she stood apart from the other two, wanting to see them off without being in the way. While Alistair went over to his daughter, Jessimyn went to Leliana first. They embraced, and Jessimyn pressed her eyes together, knowing that the goodbyes were only going to get more difficult. Emotional words were shared before Jessimyn finally pressed a letter into the bard's hands.

"What is this?" Leliana asked. "Is there something you wish to say that you cannot say to me now?"

"It's not for you," Jessimyn said.

Leliana wrinkled her eyebrows. "Then who is it..." Realization dawned on her, and she nodded. "Ah, I see. Do you think he will return to Denerim, then?"

"I don't know," Jessimyn said. "He may not. But if he does..."

"If he does, I will give this to him," Leliana promised.

Jessimyn gave her a smile. "Are you going to read it once I'm gone?" She asked.

Leliana chuckled. "I will try not to, but my curiosity may get the better of me eventually, if years pass and it's still in my possession."

Jessimyn just nodded, giving her another hug before the two of them joined the others. Ellynedra pulled Jessimyn into another hug as soon as she was within arm's reach, sobbing on her shoulder. "I can't believe you're going," she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "What am I going to do... without you?"

"You're... going to be a great queen," Jessimyn whispered back, her eyes stinging. "And you won't be alone. You have a husband who loves you very much."

"If he can love me even half as much as Father loves you, then I will be a lucky woman indeed," Ellynedra said before finally releasing her.

When Jessimyn went to Alistair's side, he nearly crushed her hand in his. There were more tears, more hugs, but they did not remain for much longer. Their farewell was already more drawn out and painful than either of them wanted, and they finally turned and walked out of the palace gates for the last time.

It seemed strange, walking through the city without a retinue of guards at their backs. It was also strange not to have everyone they passed stopping to bow or curtsey. Some recognized them and did so, but to many of the others, they appeared simply as two soldiers, which was good. They had hoped to pass for such, especially once they got away from Denerim to places where they were less known. Once outside the gates, they went south. The north road was a much more direct route to Orzammar, it was true, but they weren't necessarily looking for the way to make the best time. But also, there had been so many reports of darkspawn in the south lately that they decided to go there first.

The first few days of travel were done in almost complete silence. Neither were in the mood for idle chatter, and by the time they stopped in the evenings, they were so exhausted that they immediately fell asleep. It was also in those first few days that Jessimyn was really reminded just how old they were. They were no longer twenty years old, running on adrenaline and fear. Every muscle in their bodies seemed to be sore for the entirety of the first couple weeks, until they got used to the traveling, to being on their feet all day long. Still, sleeping on the ground was much more difficult than it used to be, and they never passed up the opportunity to stop at an inn whenever they had the chance.

It had been the beginning of spring when they left Denerim, and it was getting close to summer by the time they reached Lothering. Alistair had started having dreams again a few weeks before that, and they wondered if perhaps they wouldn't have to travel all the way to Orzammar to find darkspawn after all. It had been growing hotter, and while it was still technically spring, it certainly felt like summer, and they were more than happy at the chance of a real bed and a bath for a night or two. The common room of the Lothering inn was abuzz as they sat down to have a meal. Despite the heat, Jessimyn kept her hood up to help cover her face. With the scars on her face that seemed to mark her for who she was, surprisingly, she was the more recognizable of the two. It was always awkward when they were recognized, and they tried to avoid it whenever they could.

They only had to listen to the gossip around them for a short while before they heard what they had been expecting to hear. There had been a darkspawn attack on a small village a few days southwest of Lothering. Some people mentioned that word had been sent to Amaranthine, but that they didn't expect to hear from the Grey Wardens for a couple months. There was some grumbling about the fact that the Grey Wardens were stationed so far away, that they should have their headquarters in the south somewhere, since that seemed to be where all of the action was.

That night, and for the next two nights as they moved south, Alistair's dreams began getting worse. "They're different," he told her. "Maybe... I don't know. Maybe it's my time, too. I feel this... pulling. I feel it... coming from the direction we're traveling, actually."

And it was that pulling he felt that they followed, once the left the Imperial Highway. Their movements were slow, with the terrain and the heat and the exhaustion they felt from too many nights of too little sleep. On one particularly warm night when they stopped, they didn't even set up their tent. It was laid out on the ground as a sort of tarp, and then their bedroll was placed on top of it. Jessimyn was just starting to drift off when she heard Alistair speak.

"The night is full of stars," he whispered.

"Hmm.. what did you say?" She asked.

Alistair almost seemed embarrassed as he repeated himself. "Oh, I... I said the night is full of stars."

Jessimyn opened her eyes to look up at the sky. "I suppose it is, yes. That seems a somewhat odd way of phrasing it, though."

"It's from a song Leliana sang once, actually," he told her. "A song she wrote about us. Because... well, remember how we used to sleep like this sometimes, underneath the stars?"

"Of course I remember," she replied. "I didn't know she'd written a song about us. Why haven't I heard it?"

"It wasn't a happy song," he told her, running his fingers through her hair. "It was when you were gone the first time, when you'd gone to Weisshaupt, that she sang it. I just... there was a line from it that always stuck with me. _What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her? The night is full of stars, and she is not with me._"

Jessimyn leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm with you now," she whispered, and Alistair kissed her.

"I know," he said. "I guess it's strange, especially considering everything that's happening to us right now, but things just seem... I don't know. They seem right, it seems right for us to be here, together, under the stars." He shrugged his shoulders. "And maybe I'm just a sentimental sap. Who knows?" He kissed her again. "I love you, Jess."

"I love you, too," she said before returning the kiss that quickly turned into more.

Despite the heat, Alistair made no protest when she rolled on top of him. As she straddled him, her hips moving in time with his, she had to admit there _was_ a rightness to it all. They were finally able to do what they had wanted to all that time they had been traveling during the Blight, what they had never been able to do because there were too many others around. They were finally able to make love under the stars.

They were only a few days from the village, based on the directions they had been given in Lothering, when Alistair began leading them in a different direction. "The village is this way," she told him, gesturing to the southwest.

"I know," he told her. "But I feel... something. To the south. It's... I don't know what it is, but it pulls at me. Can't you feel it?"

Jessimyn shook her head. "If it was darkspawn, I would..."

"It's not darkspawn," he told her. "Or... Maker, I don't know. But it's strong, and it seems to grow stronger every day, the pull."

So she followed his lead. Every day it seemed stronger, and every night his dreams seemed to be worse. It frightened Jessimyn a little, but there wasn't much she could do about it. One morning Alistair awoke and seemed to be almost tingling with anticipation.

"I don't know what it is, Jess, but it's close. It feels so close. I feel like we might get there today," he told her.

"It's a place, then?" She asked.

Alistair shook his head. "I don't know what it is, but we're close."

Later that day they came upon a clearing, and in the clearing they saw a figure. As they got closer, Jessimyn saw that it was a woman. She was beautiful, with dark brown hair that flowed unbound to her waist. She seemed unaffected by the heat and perfectly at peace as she sat on the ground, toying with a bundle of flowers in her lap. She looked up as they approached, but if she was frightened by them, she didn't show it. If anything, she looked curious, but also... expectant? Like she had been waiting for them to arrive almost.

"It's her," Alistair whispered.

Jessimyn looked at him. "You know her?" She asked, wondering how that was possible.

"No," he said, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving the woman before them. "But she's the one..." His words trailed off as he began advancing towards her.

"Wait," Jessimyn called to him, but if he heard her, he made no indication that he had.

"It's you," the woman said, rising to her feet, the flowers forgotten. She and Alistair moved until they were close enough that they could touch. The meeting seemed strangely intimate, and Jessimyn felt an uncharacteristic flash of jealousy at the way they were looking at each other. "Who are you?" The woman asked before turning her head to look at something over her shoulder. "Who is this man?" She questioned.

Jessimyn peered at the place where the woman was looking but she saw nothing. Then there was a sound, and a bird that had been perched on a branch, hidden in the shadows, flapped its wings and soared towards the woman. In midflight it began to change, to grow, and by the time it reached her, it was no longer a bird.

"Who is he?" The woman asked again. "I feel like... I know him. I feel... it's him I've been feeling all this time."

"Of course it was," came the reply. "Can you not tell who he is, child? Can you not feel it? 'Tis your father."

"Morrigan," Jessimyn breathed.

The witch gave them both a smile. "Jessimyn," she said. "And Alistair. It has been... a long time."


	119. Jessimyn Chapter 119

No one spoke for a very long time, and when Jessimyn finally moved up to stand at Alistair's side, he grasped her hand tightly in his. It was the only indication she got that he was even aware she was there, as he gaped at the pair before them. Of the two women, the younger had her eyes locked on Alistair, but Morrigan seemed to be more interested in Jessimyn, giving her a weighing look. It seemed so strange, to finally be reunited after so long apart.

"Who is _she_?" The woman asked, and Jessimyn pulled her eyes from Morrigan to see the accusing look on the other woman's face. "If he is my father, then who is the woman with him?"

It was Morrigan who answered. "If the rumors and little bit of news I have heard over the past few years are true, then she is his wife. And queen."

"Oh, I'm... not the queen anymore," Jessimyn said, not sure why she felt the need to explain the fact. "Ellynedra's the queen now."

"And who is that?" The woman asked.

"She's our daughter," Alistair replied.

Something flashed in the woman's eyes, and Morrigan put a hand on her shoulder. "You knew you had a sister," she said, and Jessimyn felt Alistair flinch at the words. "But perhaps formal introductions are in order. This is Themie. Themie, these are some of your mother's old friends. Alistair and Jessimyn."

"Friends," Alistair whispered, and then he finally looked at Jessimyn. "It's been her all along. The pulling, the dreams..." He looked at Themie again. "It was you."

She cocked her head to one side, and Morrigan smiled a strange smile. "You have not been the only one drawn to her," she said. "The darkspawn feel her pull as well. We rarely seem to get a moment's rest. They have proven most troublesome, really, following us wherever we go." She petted her daughter's hair, almost as if she was a favored pet. "Her soul sings to them. Apparently it sings to you, too."

"So it's _you _they've been after," Alistair said. "The reason why there's been so much darkspawn activity down here over the past few years."

Morrigan shrugged a shoulder. "I could not say. We have not always stayed in Ferelden. Sometimes I can use my magic to evade them."

"You're the mage," Jessimyn said, realization dawning, and Morrigan raised an eyebrow at her. "The one we were tracking, so many years ago. We'd been following the trails of the darkspawn attacks, and every time we would come upon a farmhouse where one occurred, we found evidence of wards being set. That was you, wasn't it?"

Morrigan smiled. "'Tis possible. There were times we had to take shelter, and I had to do what I could to protect us. We've always tried to stay away from people whenever we could."

"We knew you were following," Themie said, and Morrigan gave her a sharp look. "Don't you remember, mother? Maybe that's another thing you forgot when your memory..."

"Hush, Themie," Morrigan cut in. "Of course we knew you were there, but we still hid ourselves. For our own safety."

"You were..." Jessimyn frowned. "You were the wolf, weren't you?" Morrigan just gave her a flat look, almost as if she didn't know what she was talking about. "When I was bathing one evening. You stole my clothes."

Morrigan gave her a slow smile. "I did what I had to do, to take care of us both. Surely, as a _parent_, you can understand that." With the emphasis she put on the word _parent_, it was clear that Morrigan did not think much of Jessimyn's position as a mother. "But come," Morrigan added. "We were about to eat. Why don't you join us?"

There was little they could do but follow. A short distance away was a small cookfire, one so tiny that they hadn't noticed it before. A small pot of stew was bubbling over it, and Morrigan gestured for them both to sit. "We don't have extra bowls, I'm afraid," she said.

Jessimyn nodded, pulling two out of her own pack to hand over. However, when her fingers brushed against Morrigan's, the skin of her wrist began to prickle. She still wore the bracelet charm she had been given so many years before, and Morrigan's touch had set if off like she'd never felt before. Jessimyn watched the witch's eyes tighten, and she had a feeling the woman had noticed something.

"There is a small stream to the west of here," she said. "If the two of you would like to freshen up a little..."

Alistair nodded, jumping up from where he had just sat down. "Yes," he said, the tension in his voice clear. "Yes, a good idea." Jessimyn could do nothing but follow after him.

Neither of them spoke until they were both crouched down in front of the small stream, splashing water on their faces. "She set my bracelet off," Jessimyn said quietly.

Alistair gave her a sidelong glance before peering over his shoulder, as if Morrigan was going to be standing right behind them. "The charm? Isn't that supposed to mean that someone around you is... what? Bad? I've never thought Morrigan was a good person, so that's hardly surprising."

Jessimyn shook her head. "No, it's set off when I'm touched by someone who means me harm. Regardless of your own feelings about her, Morrigan and I were always friends. I don't know what this means."

Alistair dried his hands on his shirt. "You haven't seen her in a very long time. We don't know what kind of person she is anymore. If her stories are true, and they've been running from darkspawn since... the girl was born, we don't know how that might have affected her... mental capabilities. What do you think we should do?"

Her mouth quirked up into a small smile. How quickly he reverted back to looking to her for a decision. "I don't know," she said. "We just... watch her. Make sure she's not trying to... I don't even know what."

Alistair offered her a hand. "Well, maybe we'll get lucky. If the darkspawn really are drawn to the girl, maybe they'll come to us, and we won't have to go looking for them." The joke fell flat, though, since the reason for looking for the darkspawn was to bring about their own deaths. Alistair frowned. "Hmm... that one was funnier in my head."

"They always are," Jessimyn said as she patted his arm. She didn't move to walk back to the fire, though. "Are you... all right?" She asked him.

"What, because you didn't laugh? It's not the first time," he said, an attempt at keeping his voice light.

Jessimyn shook her head. "That's not what I mean. That girl back there. She's your..."

"No," he said, cutting her off. "My daughter... _our _daughter, is back in Denerim. That girl back there, she is Morrigan's." When she just looked at him, he scowled. "What would you have me do? Try to form some sort of bond with a woman who is already very much an adult, in the few days we have left before we..." Alistair sighed. "I don't know why I was drawn to her, but we can't stay here."

Jessimyn just nodded, and they made their way back to the fire, where Morrigan had already spooned out bowls of stew for everyone. It was strange, as Morrigan had always managed to get out of cooking, when they had been traveling companions before. She always had an excuse, always managed to bully someone else into doing it for her, but Jessimyn supposed there was really no one there to bully, since it was just her and Themie. Jessimyn glanced at the girl, who was really not so much a girl as a woman. She was older than Ellynedra, but there was something about her that seemed so young, so innocent. Her eyes seemed to take on a far away look unless she was being spoken to directly. It was a little unsettling, to see the mixture of Morrigan and Alistair's features in her face.

They all made polite conversation as they ate, but Jessimyn couldn't help but feel like Morrigan was watching them. It was almost unsettling, and she felt a bit like a field mouse who was aware that a hawk was flying overhead. It was still early in the day, but Jessimyn began to feel drowsy as soon as they had finished eating. Soon she and Alistair both were yawning, and her mind started growing fuzzy. As the heaviness in her limbs began to grow, she realized that they had been drugged, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. The last thing she remembered before unconsciousness moved in was the smile on Morrigan's face.

…

The sky was dark when she awoke, and Jessimyn felt a stiffness in her neck and arms. The fire had been built up despite the warmth in the air, and she was sitting close enough that sweat beaded on her face. When she moved to wipe it away, she realized the cause for some of her stiffness. She was bound, tied with her hands behind her back, feet tied together in front of her where she sat on the ground. As she moved her hands a little, she felt Alistair's fingers, and a strained look over her shoulder showed him seated behind her, his back to hers, though his head was still slumped forward in what looked like sleep. But they had not just fallen asleep.

"Awake so soon?" Morrigan asked, and she seemed to materialize in front of Jessimyn, who had to crane her neck up to look at the woman's face.

"Why are you doing this?" Jessimyn asked, jerking with her hands to test the knots that held her wrists tied to Alistair's. The movement must have jarred him, and he mumbled something. "We mean you no harm. You should know that. We would never..."

"Ah, but that's not really my concern," Morrigan replied, going into a crouch before her. The fire behind her made her appear larger in a way, but older, too. "I have no reason to fear you. In fact, I am quite happy at your arrival. You see, we were in need of sacrifices, and you have willingly provided yourself. Almost as if... by magic." She laughed a deep, throaty laugh. "Oh, and there's no need to keep pulling on those ropes. There's no way you can untie them, and struggling will only make them tighter."

"Why are you doing this?" Jessimyn repeated.

Morrigan gestured with a hand to her daughter, who was curled up in a ball on a nearby bedroll. Her eyes were just barely open, but they stared off into nothing, and only the gentle movement of her chest as she took in a breath convinced Jessimyn that she was even alive. "It is difficult for a soul so big to be trapped in such a small body," she said. "It takes magic to keep her comfortable, and it takes magic to help her come into her own power."

"Blood magic?" Jessimyn asked.

Morrigan laughed again, that same raspy laugh. "If you wish to put a name to it, I can't stop you. Darkspawn blood is helpful, but it is not quite strong enough. Neither is the blood of a human or elf or dwarf. A Grey Warden's blood, though... that is the most... beneficial to what needs to be done. How fortuitous it is, to have two such Wardens just fall into my lap."

An image drifted through Jessimyn's mind, a picture of a field, and the scar at her jaw seemed to twinge at the remembrance. A field filled with bodies, and two displayed in the center, both headless. "The Wardens from Orlais," Jessimyn whispered. "That was... your work, wasn't it? We found so many of them, dead along with the darkspawn. You killed... all of them, didn't you? For some sort of... ritual?"

"That was quite some time ago," Morrigan mused. "But yes. Themie was just coming into her womanhood, and... well, I won't bore you with the details. Do not worry, though. Your own deaths will not be quite so gruesome."

Jessimyn felt Alistair's fingers twitch against hers, and he squeezed her hand as best as he could to let her know that he was awake. He began pulling at the ropes a little as well, but she ignored it, too focused on Morrigan's words. True, they had come out there to die, but it wasn't supposed to end like this. "I thought..." Jessimyn nearly choked on the words. "I thought I was your friend. I thought..."

Her raspy laugh seemed to echo through the trees. "_Friend_? Morrigan is no one's friend." The woman smiled at her. "Surely you are not under the delusion that I was doing anything more than using you."

Alistair's hands pulled at her again, and she realized he was not trying to get at the knots but rather at her. Or, more importantly, at her gauntlets. Jessimyn ducked her head, realizing what he was trying to do. They were still the same gauntlets she had been using for years, the ones that Zevran had made for her. Alistair knew about the button that would cause the hidden blade to spring forth. If he could trigger it, and if she could somehow manage to keep from losing a finger or two, they could cut themselves free. She just... had to keep Morrigan talking.

"No, there was more to us than that," Jessimyn said, looking up again at the woman before her. "You confided in me. You told me how much it meant to you, to finally have someone you could call a friend."

A confused look crossed Morrigan's face, but she seemed to shake it off. "Words are pretty things. _Lies _are pretty things, when they get you what you want. What _I _wanted, what I wanted from the start, was a child. _His _child. To absorb the soul of the Archdemon when you killed it. And all I had to do was pretend to be your friend, pretend to be _his _friend."

Jessimyn felt Alistair's hands pause for a moment. Morrigan had never tried to be a friend to him. As she tried to think of a response to her words, Jessimyn felt his finger finally pass over the button on her gauntlets, but he waited, probably for someone to speak so that the sound of the blade coming out would be covered.

"So tell me," Morrigan said, leaning back so that she was sitting in front of Jessimyn. "What is that little charm you're wearing?" Alistair pressed the button as she spoke, and Jessimyn did her best not to wince as it sliced a finger that she hadn't managed to keep out of the way. "I know that I set it off when I touched you, but I'm curious as to what it does."

"The bracelet," Jessimyn said as Alistair slowly began sawing the ropes against the exposed blade. "It was made for me by a woman in Lothering. It was made to warm me if someone meant me harm."

Morrigan laughed. "Foolish girl. What good is a warning if you don't heed it? You knew I was going to hurt you, yet you still came back."

Jessimyn felt the tug of the rope breaking, but still they held their hands together at their backs where Morrigan couldn't see them. Really, it would be up to Alistair to jump. Jessimyn could do little more than be a distraction. "What are you going to do to us?" She asked, trying to keep Morrigan talking.

"Oh, do not look so frightened," the witch said with an ominous smile. "You came down here to die, did you not? Why else would the king and queen be in the Wilds on their own? I'll give you the death you've been looking for. But this way, your deaths are so much more useful. Think of the good you'll be doing... for me, of course." She frowned, glancing over Jessimyn's shoulder. "And you can stop pretending you're still asleep, Alistair. I know you're awake."

"I always knew you were crazy," he muttered, giving Jessimyn's hand a squeeze.

Morrigan cackled at that, and a strange suspicion hit Jessimyn. Morrigan must have noticed the look in her eye, and she grinned. "You look as if you've figured something out."

Maybe it was the way she was talking, or the way she was laughing. Maybe it was even just the things that she was saying. Jessimyn's eyes widened. Could it be true? "You're not her, are you?" She asked.

Morrigan's smile widened. "There, now. Good girl. I always knew you were the smart one."

"What do you mean, she's not her?" Alistair asked.

"And I always knew he was the fool," Morrigan replied.

"I mean... she's not Morrigan." Jessimyn stared at the woman before her, the woman wearing Morrigan's face. "You're _not_ Morrigan. You're Flemeth."


	120. Jessimyn & Alistair Chapter 120

JESSIMYN

"But that's not... possible. She can't be Flemeth." Jessimyn could practically feel the tremble in Alistair's voice. She wished she could see him. "We... we killed you," Alistair whispered. "We saw you die."

Morrigan laughed. No. _Flemeth _laughed. "You destroyed that body, it's true. And that was unfortunate, because I was not quite ready to give it up. But _I _am not killed quite so easily as that. All you did was inconvenience me. My foolish daughter knew that, knew that I would return eventually. But she underestimated how powerful I am. She did not expect me to return so soon, and that was her downfall."

"How?" Jessimyn asked, holding tightly to Alistair's hands. He couldn't see what was going on, and she didn't want him to make his move just yet. They needed to distract Flemeth if they wanted to escape... if that was even a possibility. With Morrigan it might have been, but Flemeth was something entirely different.

Flemeth seemed more than willing to talk, though. "You know why Morrigan was sent with you. _She _knew why she was sent, with the express task of seducing your man there. But she got above herself, thought that she could steal what was mine." Flemeth's face contorted into a snarl. "I didn't want Morrigan's body. I would have let her live because the body I wanted..." She gestured with a hand to Themie, who was still lying comatose on the ground. "But Morrigan wanted her for herself." Her expression softened a little. "I might almost admire her ambition, had it been someone other than me she tried to trick."

"But you were dead," Alistair said. "I remember, quite distinctly..."

"A minor setback," she said with a wave of her hand. "I knew there was a possibility that Morrigan would betray me, when I sent her with you, so I made preparations. I prepared charms and spells that could be worked without a body that could manage magic. When you... _killed _me, I had to find another body. I found a lovely little Chasind girl, whispered pretty words into her ear, and lured her back to my home. Stupid child that she was, I even managed to get her to perform some of the ceremony herself that would allow me to take her body. Once I had that, it was only a matter of finding Morrigan again."

Jessimyn blinked, another memory coming to her. "Lylimet," she whispered. "That was you. That's why it seemed like she knew me, why she... you... were out there on your own."

Flemeth cackled. "That's right. How clever you are. I found the lot of you Wardens wandering about, and you practically led me straight to her. Those maps of yours were very helpful. I had to be careful, though. Lylimet's body was weak, powerless. She was no mage, no witch, so I was limited by what I could do with her. But she was beautiful, and many fools are slow to believe that a pretty face is capable of anything other than sweetness."

"Like Joffey?" Jessimyn asked.

"Who is that?" Flemeth asked.

"The Grey Warden you killed, when you stole our maps," Jessimyn said, a new wave of guilt passing through. How had she not known? How had they just let Flemeth into their midst, into their camp? Why hadn't she seen her for what she was?

Flemeth smiled. "Yes, he was indeed a fool, so eager to believe a pretty woman wanted his attention that he didn't flinch, even when I held the blade up in front of his face." She laughed. "He didn't even cry out when I cut his throat. Even Morrigan didn't realize who I was until it was too late. But by then, I'd already set my charms and incapacitated her. Then it was just a matter of blood." She smiled. "Just as now." She stood up. "I think I've sated your curiosity enough. Let's begin."

Flemeth picked up a knife. It was long, and curved at the end with a wicked looking forked tip. She moved to the fire, holding her hands out. Jessimyn didn't hear her speak, but the fire flared up. Flemeth moved over to Themie and grabbed the girl's hand. With a flick of her wrist, Flemeth brought the blade across her daughter's... _granddaughter's_... hand, drawing blood. Themie didn't make so much as a sound, and Flemeth grabbed a large bowl to catch the blood.

"When she comes back," Jessimyn whispered. "I'll squeeze your hand. She's holding a knife. Just grab her, and I'll use my blades."

"My feet are still tied," Alistair whispered back.

Jessimyn cursed under her breath. There was no way either of them could cut through the ropes at their feet without drawing Flemeth's attention, and if she saw that their hands were free too soon, they would lose their advantage. Had she been just a normal woman, they would have tried it anyway, knowing they could overwhelm her, but they knew better than to underestimate Flemeth. She couldn't be sure if the woman still had the ability to change into a dragon, being in Morrigan's body, but they stood no chance if she could. But then Flemeth was moving back to them.

She stood, looking down at Jessimyn, a pensive look on her face, before she knelt at her feet. "You're going to behave, aren't you," she said, making it a statement rather than a question. "You won't like me if you don't," she added before drawing the blade through the binding at Jessimyn's feet. Then she stood and kicked her legs apart. As hot as it had been, Jessimyn hadn't put on leggings under her armored skirt, and she cried out when Flemeth flipped it up, exposing her smalls.

"Oh, don't get so excited," Flemeth said with a grin as she brought the blade up to Jessimyn's groin. She shoved the bowl up between her legs before drawing the knife over her inner thigh.

Jessimyn gasped as the blade bit into her skin, and she began to panic as she watched the blood gushing from her leg, coming out in spurts in time with her heartbeat. The cut was deep, and she had hit a major blood vessel. She began to feel lightheaded, and the bowl filled up quickly. It was too much blood... But then Flemeth pulled the bowl away, and with a wave of her hand, Jessimyn felt the warm, pulling feeling of a healing spell as the blood slowed. With the bowl full, Flemeth turned from her prisoners back to Themie.

Jessimyn fought the dizziness that tried to claim her as she watched Flemeth set the bowl down. She didn't hear her speak, but Themie stood up quickly as if she'd been commanded to do so. The girl's eyes were still vacant, and she didn't blink as Flemeth dipped her fingers into the bowl, drawing a line of blood down her forehead and nose. She drew symbols on Themies cheeks and arms, and then she picked up the bowl in both hands and began to chant. The words she spoke were not in a language Jessimyn recognized, but she could feel the power swirl around them all as the fire flared again.

"What's she doing?" Alistair whispered.

"Her back is to us," Jessimyn whispered back.

Alistair's hands disappeared from hers, and Jessimyn felt a moment's panic, but then she felt his feet. He must have turned himself around, and he used the blade at her wrist to cut through the ropes around his ankles. Jessimyn kept her attention on Flemeth, looking for any indication that the woman was going to turn around again, but her focus was on the girl. In a sudden move, Flemeth tipped the bowl up over Themie's head, covering her with blood, and there was a flash of power. It was almost as if a strong wind had come through, and Jessimyn felt it push her back, away from the women by the fire. She felt Alistair slide the blade at her wrist back into place before he turned around, grabbing her hands again.

Despite the heat, Jessimyn shivered, watching the display before her. Alistair was whispering something to her, but she couldn't hear it over the strange ringing in her ears that continued to grow. It was an odd sound, almost like singing or humming, and it intensified to an almost uncomfortable level.

"Jess," Alistair hissed. "Did you hear me?"

But she didn't get a chance to respond because Flemeth let out a shriek. Themie fell to the ground and began convulsing, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head, and when Flemeth turned to focus her enraged eyes on Jessimyn, she couldn't help but flinch.

"What have you done?" The witch demanded. "The blood, it's corrupting her!"

Jessimyn pulled her feet up as Flemeth strode forward. The witch stopped, then dropped to a knee, pushing Jessimyn's armored skirt aside once again to examine a small purple patch on the back of her thigh. Jessimyn had noticed it a few days earlier, assuming it was just a bruise, but apparently Flemeth found greater significance in it, as seeing it made her let out a slew of curses. Jessimyn gripped Alistair's hands tightly, and his hands on hers were the only things that kept her upright when Flemeth drew her hand back and hit Jessimyn savagely across the face.

"You've tainted her!" Flemeth shouted, hitting her again with the back of her hand.

Jessimyn could feel the blood running from her nose. She could feel Alistair's hands twitch, and she held tightly to him to keep him from throwing himself at the witch. "We're Grey Wardens," Jessimyn said, blinking away the stars that invaded her vision. "Our blood has always been..."

Flemeth hit her again. "You think I don't know that?" She demanded. "You think I'm a fool? But it's too soon... your blood should have still been clean enough..." She let out a low growl and lunged forward, pressing the tip of her knife to Jessimyn's throat. "I'm afraid my promise of a clean death may have been premature," she said in a low voice as Themie continued to thrash on the ground behind her.

Jessimyn could feel a trickle of blood run down her neck, and she knew they only had a little time left if they wanted to stop Flemeth from doing... whatever it was that she was trying to do. Obviously she had hoped that Jessimyn's blood would aid in whatever spell she had planned. Was it because of the Calling that things had gone wrong? Was she too close to the end, so that the taint was too strong in her blood? And if Flemeth claimed that Themie was corrupted... did that mean she would turn into an Archdemon? That was how the Archdemons were made, after all, when the old gods were corrupted. A cold feeling passed through her body. Would she and Alistair be responsible for starting another Blight because their selfish choice had kept them from actually destroying the soul of the Archdemon?

"Oh, Maker..." Jessimyn moaned softly as she released Alistair's hands. "The darkspawn," she lied. "I can feel them, they're coming..."

"What?" Flemeth turned her head, eyes going wide. "Where..."

Alistair leapt, practically jumping over Jessimyn's head as he dove at Flemeth. Jessimyn felt the blade cut into the skin at her throat as the witch's hand was knocked away. Alistair had obviously caught her by surprise, but she recovered quickly, and Jessimyn saw a flash of light as the two of them grappled. Alistair was thrown backwards, and she heard a loud _thud _as he hit the ground. Jessimyn lunged at Flemeth as the woman tried to right herself, bringing them both back to the ground. The sudden movement, along with the blood loss and the blows to the head, made Jessimyn's vision dim for a moment, and she grabbed Flemeth tightly around the neck, hoping that she would not lose consciousness. The skin under her hands seemed to ripple and change, and suddenly there was fur where smooth skin once was, a muzzle in place of a face. Flemeth had changed into a wolf as Jessimyn held onto her.

_At least she's not a dragon_, Jessimyn thought before the teeth bit into her shoulder, and she let out a scream.

The wolf's claws were not terribly sharp, but they slashed at her with enough force to break the skin. Flemeth's wolf body was strong enough to wrestle Jessimyn onto her back, and she brought her hands up, grabbing onto the fur at the wolf's neck, only just managing to keep its powerful jaws from closing over her throat. The tight grip she had on the wolf's neck was such that Jessimyn was unable to reach the hidden button on her gauntlets that would cause the blade to come out from its hiding place. From the corner of her eye, she could see Alistair lying on the ground, alive but clearly stunned. There was only one thing she could do. Releasing her hold on the wolf with one hand, her thumb found the button as she moved her wrist up to the wolf's eye. She felt its teeth close over her throat as the blade sprang forth. Pain seared through her, white and hot, and then everything went black.

ALISTAIR

Everything was a blur, but the world slowly came back into focus. Alistair heard snarls, then yelping, then a scream, and as he finally managed to sit up, his eyes found Jessimyn, lying beneath an enormous wolf that could only be Morrigan... or Flemeth, he supposed. The disorientation he felt was pushed away as he rushed to them. There was so much blood. The wolf's legs twitched as Alistair grabbed the knife that Flemeth had been holding, but it didn't do much more than twitch as he stabbed into its body. Grabbing at it with both hands, he savagely threw it off of Jessimyn, but when he saw her, he almost wished he hadn't.

Her face, neck, and shoulders were covered in blood. It was obvious she'd been bitten at her throat, and while the wolf hadn't managed to crush her windpipe, the blood pouring from the bite wound was coming out too quickly. There was too much of it. "No," he whispered as he grabbed her around the body to lift her up. He saw her eyelids flutter, but Jessimyn's head just rolled back against his chest as he leaned her against him. Alistair closed his hands over the wound at her neck, as if he could somehow stem the tide of blood that poured from it. "No," he said again, hot tears spilling from his eyes.

Jessimyn's breathing was shallow and raspy. "Is... she..." She managed.

"Don't speak," Alistair told her. "She's dead. She... oh, Maker, Jess..." He could feel her growing weaker in his arms. "You can't... you've just got to hold on..." But for what? There was nothing he could do for her. He felt a hot rage building inside of him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to hold her in his arms and watch her die. His tears blurred his vision, and a sob shook his body as he held her to him.

"Themie..." she gasped out. "...corrupted... Arch... can't..."

He saw her fingers twitch, as if she was trying to move her hands, and he closed his free hand over hers, his other still trying to hold back the blood at her neck. "Damn it, Jess, you can't leave me. Not like this. Not like... oh, Maker..."

Jessimyn let out a weak cough, and he could see the blood bubbling at her lips. "...love..." she whispered.

"I love you, too," he said, his tears falling down his chin and onto her head.

He held her as he listened to her last wheezing breaths, held her as he felt her body go limp in his arms, held her as the blood at her neck ceased to flow, and he knew she was gone. Alistair tilted his head back and screamed at the sky.

He couldn't say how long he held her like that, but it was the sudden strange realization that everything had gone quiet that brought his awareness back to his surroundings. Themie, who had been thrashing about on the ground, was now lying quietly, eyes open as she lay on her back. Flemeth had somehow changed back into her human form, though she was still lying where he had thrown her. The rage he'd felt earlier seemed to pulse through him, and Alistair gently laid Jessimyn's body on the ground and rose to his feet.

He found their weapons easily enough, stashed far away from where they'd been tied, and he advanced on Flemeth's body... Morrigan's body... the body of the woman who had taken his wife from him. With a snarl, Alistair drew his arms back, sword held in both hands, and in one swift movement he separated her head from her body. It was not nearly as satisfying as he had hoped it might be, instead bringing him to his knees as another wave of tears overtook him.

Alistair's body jerked as a scream ripped through the air, and he jumped to his feet as he turned to see Themie, still lying on the ground, but her back was arched up so unnaturally that it seemed only her head and feet still touched the ground. Her eyes were wide open, and he realized their blood red color was not some trick of the light. He strode towards her, his sword still gripped tightly in his hands.

"No!" Themie screamed. "Mother... no!" He halted, only a few steps from her as her head turned, eyes finding him. She lifted a hand to him. "Don't... let her... no!"

The rage Alistair had felt was replaced by fear as he took the last few steps to close the distance between himself and the girl lying on the ground who was technically his daughter. Was Flemeth trying to take over her body as she had done to Morrigan? Though she looked very little like her, Alistair couldn't help but see Ellynedra as he looked down on Themie. He knew what he had to do, but...

Alistair felt a strange tingling sensation pass over his skin. Darkspawn, and lots of them. They were still a ways off, but they were moving closer. Themie was drawing them like moths to a flame. As another scream tore from her lips, he looked down at her again. Yes, he knew what he had to do, but how was he supposed to kill his own daughter, a girl who was likely innocent of the things that had been done to her? She looked up at him with pleading eyes as her hands flailed about, almost as if she was trying to fend off an invisible attacker. But then the look in her eyes changed. Her body relaxed, and she smiled a sinister-looking smile. With that look, Alistair knew it was no longer his daughter lying on the ground before him.

Her hands stretched up, and he saw a strange, crackling light growing at her fingertips. But if she was trying to cast a spell, Alistair didn't give her a chance. He raised his sword high above his head, then brought it down with all his might, stabbing it directly into her heart. The world seemed to turn white as Alistair was enveloped by heat and pain. And then there was nothing.

...

_Alistair and Jessimyn stood side by side, waiting for the news that could only be bad. Riordan looked at them both gravely. "There is a reason Grey Wardens are required to end the Blight While the Archdemon may be slain as any other darkspawn, if any other than a Grey Warden does the slaying, it will not be enough... its essence will simply travel into the nearest darkspawn, only to be reborn anew. But if a Grey Warden kills the Archdemon, its essence will travel into the Wardens body. It will be destroyed... but so will the Grey Warden."_

"_Meaning... the Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon... dies."_

_..._

In the days that followed, there were those who swore they had dreamt of a dragon, an Archdemon rising to bring the world into another Blight, but they were largely ignored. After all, it hadn't even been thirty years since the last one, and the only men who seemed to have such dreams were those who were already close to their Calling. Few were willing to believe that it was possible to have another Blight so soon after the last. No one would ever know just how close it had come to that.

They might have believed that they had won, the day Jessimyn slew the Archdemon without having to sacrifice her own life, but in the end, there was still only one way kill the creature and truly end the Blight. In the end, the death of a Grey Warden was still required. They may have managed to put it off, but in the end, the price still had to be paid.

_Fin_


End file.
